


The Panther's Eye

by unsymmetricalrainbow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, epilogue non-compliant, stereotypical 'physically stuck to each other for long period of time' fic!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-07-10 06:33:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6970075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsymmetricalrainbow/pseuds/unsymmetricalrainbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco came back to Hogwarts for his Eighth Year to escape the looming fate of his house arrest, and to try and earn his NEWTS. Harry came back to finish school after defeating the Dark Lord- he just wanted a regular Schoolyear. Something that proved impossible when a potions accident joined the two boys at the arm, turning an innocent schoolyear into hell for them both. But something would come from their forced proximity; be it a new friend, new skills, or love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AAAAA im glad im finally able to start posting this!!! its a super overused prompt, but my favourite. Ill be updating this on tuesdays!!!

 

 

The sun was just rising up over the mountains that surrounded the great castle when Draco Malfoy woke up. While there wasn’t any sunlight shining through into the dungeon dormitories, he could tell that the sun was up in the sky, and he sat up slowly, rolling from his own four poster and pulling the curtains aside. Yawning, he raised his arms high above his head, stretching as he grabbed his wand, casting a silent tempus to check the time. 5.30. He grabbed his robes, throwing them on over his boxer shorts and undershirt, tucking his wand into the pocket of his robes and grabbing his toiletries bag. He left the room, leaving the special dorms that had been created for the 8th years returning for their missed year of education. Draco was one of the only slytherins that had returned, joined only by Gregory, Millicent Bulstrode, and Theodore Nott. He wasn’t particularly friends with Nott or Bulstrode, but they were the only eighth years that had returned, so he had decided to get along with them out of necessity.

He reached the common room, noting that there was nobody up yet. The room was bathed in an eerie green light, the great glass ceiling reflecting the light shining from the bottom of the Great Lake. He thought he saw the giant squid, a brown line moving through the water where the new sunlight was peering through the lake. He smiled briefly at the sight, before slipping out of the Slytherin rooms through the stone wall that lead to the dungeon corridors.

His feet echoed in the empty halls, the shoes he had slipped on softly clicking on the cool stone floors. He turned down the familiar corridors, his destination clear in his mind. He was the head boy in Slytherin, and as such, he had clear access to the prefect bathrooms, and that was where he was headed. He made his way up the grand staircase, leisurely walking to the Fifth floor. Nobody was up at the hour, so he was free to do what he wanted. As such, he decided he was going to take a nice bath, and relax a bit before he had to struggle through classes. It wasn’t very pleasant, being one of the only Slytherins in a school coming directly from the war, but in reality, he had no choice. He and his mother had been sentenced to two years of house arrest, but he had been allowed to return to the school for his final year. He had jumped at the chance to get out of the house, and, despite the hexes and jinxes tossed daily at his back, he would rather be anywhere but stuck at home with nothing to do and no friends for the next few years.

That is exactly why he had begun to get up early with the sun, to escape the anger and hatred that was spit at him throughout each day. He got the brunt of the hate, as the other eighth years had been smart enough to stay out of the way, and those who returned hadn’t been active in the war. Draco, however, was unfortunately marked, and it was something he could never escape. He had taken to wearing sweaters and long sleeved shirts, hiding the disgusting ink that resided on his left arm. He shuddered at the thought, thankfully reaching the prefects’ bathroom. He opened the door with the password (It happened to be Niffler) and entered the posh bathroom. He smiled at the interior, it reminding him of the manor with the golden, shimmering walls, and the marble tub that was close to a swimming pool in size.

He grabbed a towel from the rack, running his fingers idly over the soft fibres. He rested it on the side of the marble tub, reaching over and twisting the knobs to allow the water to rush from the taps. Steam began to rise from the water that filled the tub, and he stared at the buttons, deep in thought. He went with the decision of flicking the light lilac and gold taps, letting two separate streams of bubbles fill the tub. As the tub filled, he went back to the loo, relieving himself before stepping back and stripping down slowly. Once he was fully stripped down, he stretched, yawning and watching the water lazily. Once it was filled to his liking, he turned the taps off and slipped into the warm, steaming water.

Once Draco was submerged up to his chest, he sat at one of the ledges, sighing softly with the pleasure of an early morning bath. He pushed from the side, stroking through the water and swimming laps around the marble pool. He wet his hair, running shampoo through the locks and lathering up both his hair and his body with the luxurious soap. Sighing, he took a breath and dipped his head under the water, scrubbing furiously at his hair to remove the suds from it. Once his hair was sufficiently unsoaped, he broke the surface, gasping for breath and grabbing for his wand, rubbing the soap from his eyes and casting a tempus to check the time. It was already 7:30. Shit. He drained the tub, wrapping the towel around his waist and casting a drying charm on his hair. He ran his brush through his hair, styling it back and fluffing the fringe up. He pulled his clothes on, pulling his robes on and adjusting his green and silver tie properly. He gave himself a once over in the mirror, grinning at himself. Despite everything, he still thought that he looked damn good. Pocketing his wand, he slipped on his straight faced mask and stepping from the bathroom.

There were students in the halls now, milling about in groups. he passed them, and he felt the dirty looks on his back as he walked the hallways. He held himself high, his shoulders set straight as his shoes clicked on the grand staircase as he made his way to the Great hall. Students of all age were filtering in with their friends, and the chatter was getting louder and louder. He entered the hall, turning to the Slytherin table and marking out where Goyle was. To his disdain, he wasn’t at the table, leaving Draco to himself. The lazy bugger was probably still asleep, damn him. He sat by himself at the end of  the table, and pulled the belgian waffles to his plate, smothering it with raspberry syrup and powdered sugar. He bit in, and then realized that he had made it all the way to the table, and even sat down without having hexes thrown at him. He smiled to himself, taking another bite of his waffles. He had a feeling that today was going to be a good day.

\-       -       -

The group of Slytherins made their way to Transfiguration, all of them huddling together in the halls. They tended to stick together as a way to protect themselves. All four of them walked together, Millicent, Theodore, Gregory and Draco. They made it to Mcgonagall’s class in record time, with, again, nobody bothering to hex the group. they all huddled together, but they were together with the eighth year Hufflepuffs, so they weren’t expecting much. The Hufflepuffs were really passive, and it was very uncommon for them to be attacked by a Hufflepuff, not that they were complaining.

Right on time, professor Mcgonagall strolled into the room, her wand at the ready. The door slammed shut behind her, and she stood at the front of the room, her wand out.

“Welcome, Class. Today we’ll be working on transfiguring the parts of ones body.” There was some sniggering, as well as some groaning from various parts of the class. She glared out into the crowd of students, waiting for the voices to subside before continuing. “You may all be thinking that this is relatively easy magic, but let me assure you; there is a reason we are only teaching it now. In order to transfigure a certain part of ones body, there needs to be a lot of not only control; but trust. You will be transforming someone’s body, and if there is any fooling around, detentions will be dealt. Do I make myself clear?” There was a mass of bobbing heads, and she nodded curtly. “Good. Now this is the wand movement required for basic body transfiguration.” She flicked her wrist in what looked like an upside down ‘w,’ and continued. “Now get to work!”

Draco turned to Goyle, raising an eyebrow questioningly. He nodded in reply, and they moved their desks over so they were facing each other. Draco pulled the textbook from his bag, skimming the pages until he found the human transfiguration spells. He skimmed the list, before nodding, pointing his wand at Goyle. He waved his wand, murmuring,

“Crinus Muto!” He waited as Gregory’s hairy bubbled, before flashing slightly and then snorted at the outcome. Greg reached his hand up to gingerly touch his new neon orange hair. He gasped, and then began laughing in spite of himself. Goyle then took his wand, and pointed it at Draco, speaking broadly,

“Tentaclifors!”

Draco held his breath, waiting for something to happen, but after a moment, he relaxed, realizing that he wouldn’t be changing any time soon. Goyle was terrible at transfiguration, it was a miracle he even managed to turn a pincushion to a porcupine. The rest of the class was spent trying to get Greg to successfully transfigure his head into a tentacle. Fortunately, no such thing happened, and the class ended with Draco successfully walking out of the class with no abnormal limbs, his hair the same platinum as always. His next class was potions, which was unfortunately taught by Slughorn. Compared to Snape, Slughorn was a right idiot, especially considering how he seemed to favour Potter. Still, Draco felt that he was having a rather good day. Everything was going as planned, Greg hadn’t managed to transfigure him with any unpleasant fixtures, he hadn’t had any jinxes thrown at him, so what could go wrong?

Draco had made his way down to the dungeons, taking his seat in the far corner of the potions class. Unfortunately, it was the same time as the Gryffindors had started to filter in, and he could hear them muttering about him behind his back. He chose to ignore it, however, and focus up on the board. In Slughorns messy scrawl was written, ‘Page 422, Binding potion, read over procedure and prepare ingredients.”

Draco groaned, carding his fingers through his platinum hair, pulling out his potions text and skimming through to the correct page. What was there read, ‘Binding Potion. A Potion used to bind two inorganic substances together, effectively glueing them to each other for long periods of time. Can last between seven days and three months.” He skimmed through the ingredients, murmuring them to himself as he waited. Slughorn was partial to partnering up the eighth years, probably because Mcgonagall got on his arse about “Interhouse unity,” or some shit. He was desperately hoping that he wouldn’t be paired with Potter, because being paired with Potter was a death wish. All of his Gryffindor buddies would send little curses at him, stinging hexes or such. Bloody fucking Gryffindors, he couldn’t stand them.

Lo and behold, Potter happened to walk right through the door just as Draco was muttering about him, his ground of friends surrounding him like a cloud of loud and arrogant stupidity. They sat at a table in the front of the room, and everybody shot him a filthy glare. Everybody except Potter, he noticed. He turned his head around as he heard a door slam, and Slughorn walked into the room, his cheeks rosy and smelling suspiciously of sherry. He walked merrily to the front of the room, where he grinned at Potter.

“Ah, Harry! So good to see you! How are you doing, my boy?”

He saw Potter reply quietly, a nervous grin on his face. He patted his shoulder, and pointed at Draco, but his face turned to a neutral tone once he made eye contact with him. He returned the Professor’s glare with his own sneer, and He heard the Weasel groan, and pat Potter on the shoulder, making some comment about “Bloody bad luck, mate.” He rolled his eyes, resting his head on his hands as he watched Potter moving closer to him. The two hadn’t become much friendlier, but they had stopped trying to hex each other every few minutes. He glanced to the side and saw Potter sitting down forcefully next to him, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses. Draco rolled his eyes, plopping the book down in front of Potter and turning to him.

“Alright, Potter, you’re on ingredient control. Take my book, go to the storage and get whatever we need. And don’t get anything on my book, it costs more than your life is worth. Understand?”

“Can you just bloody fucking lay off for a moment, Malfoy? Trust me, I don’t want to work with you either, but I don’t have a choice.”

Draco huffed, grabbing his book and stomping off to the supply cupboard himself. He began grabbing bottles of what was listed, muttering to himself as he did so. He returned with his arms full of ingredients, and he put everything down on their table, facing Potter and staring at him.

“What, really? You couldn’t have been arsed to even start preparing the potion while I was gathering ingredients? You must really be out of commission, Potter.”

He received a dark glare, and when he got a real look at him, he realized he really must have been feeling like shit. He had dark bags under his eyes, and he looked rather pale, like he hadn’t slept right for a while. Instead of continuing to argue with the sleep-deprived man, he huffed and began to brew the potion, pouring the water into the cauldron and whispering a soft Incendio to light the tinder below. He began dicing the horned beetle, with no help from Potter. He was beginning to get frustrated, doing all the work himself. Still, he continued dicing the beetle, adding it to the pot. He glanced over to the instructions, reading what it said. Stir clockwise 22 times. He began stirring, counting each stir as he went along.

Draco kept side-eyeing the other boy, watching him as he sulked. He watched Potter grumble as he stirred, and he only turned back when he realized he had lost count of the stirs. Fuck! He tried to remember how many times he had gonr around. He was fairly certain he was at 13, and relaxed, counting more carefully as he turned back to Potter. He sat with his head on the desk, his eyes closed like he were dead. Sleeping, perhaps. Whatever, Draco was not intending on doing all the work. He pulled out the newt eye, sliding the cutting board over to Potter and clearing his throat. Potter looked up, glaring at him through his arms. If looks could kill, Draco would be dead from Potter’s eyes. Draco second glanced- he couldn’t believe how stunningly green Potter’s eyes were. They stared at him, piercing into his soul and making him adjust in his seat, uncomfortable with the piercing glare. He cleared his throat, facing him again and set his face into a sneer.

“I am NOT doing all the work here, Potter, so if you could so kindly step up and bloody give me a hand, it would be pretty appreciated.”

Potter finally sat up, grabbing the knife and haphazardly slicing at the eye with a sour look on his face. He diced the lavender root unevenly, tossing it at Draco, who stacked it neatly next to the cauldron while he continued stirring, ignoring Potter’s babylike attitude. Once he had counted all of the stirs, he added the eye of newt and mentally cheered when it turned a metallic silver. He pulled out an eyedropper and added 7 drops of hippogriff blood, watching carefully for the colour to change to navy blue before adding the final ingredient, the diced Lavender root. With the final addition, the colour lightened up to a turquoise, and he pumped his fist to himself, extinguishing the flame and setting it aside. He turned to Potter, raising his eyebrow and setting his face into his usual angular smirk.

“Congratulations, Potter, we actually succeeded in making a perfect potion. No help from your lazy arse, of course, but i appreciate the sentiment of you taking the credit for my work.”

“Alright, Malfoy, could you just sod off and shut your pointy fucking mouth? Or is it above you to actually be nice to somebody for once?”

“For your information, Potter, I am plenty able to be nice, you’re just too high on my shitlist to actually bother trying.”

“Oh no, me? On the Malfoy shitlist? what ever could I have done to earn myself a place on the fabled list?”

Draco snarled, his face contorting angrily as he snapped, “Perhaps just your existance is enough, but if you want reasons, really, I could go on to list a few.”

“Am I not allowed to live in peace anymore? For fucks sake, all I want is to be left alone!”

“Believe it or not, Potty, we don’t always get what we want!”

At that, Potter’s face contorted in anger, and he stood, slamming his hands on the table and causing their table to shake slightly. Draco noticed the Weasel’s head turning and looking at them, and he noticed Granger, whose great pompous head of hair turned to stare at them. He was drawn back to Potter, who’s eyes were flashing dangerously and giving him an absolutely filthy look. He was so drawn into the other boy that he didn’t notice the bubbling of their potion, and the way the turquoise liquid darkened and turned teal, the changing of the potion going unnoticed by the feuding boys. Potter was so angry that his eyes glinted, and his voice was low and dangerous.

“You think I don’t know that, Malfoy? You think I haven’t learned that better than any other person in this bloody castle? I’ve been through things you can’t even im-”

“Dont you DARE start on me about the shit we’ve had to deal with! You have no fucking idea what I’ve dealt with in the last year!”

“Oh, I Don’t know what it’s like? Really? You may have dealt with some shit, but I swear-”

Their voices were escalating, and Weasel and Granger came rushing over, trying to pull the two of them away. Their fists were balled up as they were yelling, and soon the other Gryffindors began coming over to help try and separate them. Draco felt a stinging jinx hit his arm, and he hissed, rubbing his arm as he yelled. Slughorn finally took notice of their row, and as he was running over to stop them, Draco heard someone yell something,

“Epoximise!”

Draco turned in time just to see a blinding flash of blue collide with their cauldron, and he saw Potter out of the corner of his eye do the same, and the spell hit them at the same time that their potion spilled over them, and Draco heard yelling, echoing around the room, until he realized the sound came from himself, and his vision went black as he heard the commotion around him, and he fell into blackness, his eyes rolling shut as he felt his arm tingling.

\-     -     -

The first thing Draco noticed when he came to was the sound of whispered voices, voices that sounded much, much too close for comfort. He cracked open an eyelid, taking in the faces of Weasley and Granger through his fluttering eyelashes. The next thing he noticed was that his arm felt strained, and when he tried to adjust his wand arm, he felt some resistance, tugging back to where it as previously. He groaned, using his right arm instead to push himself up and look over. He made eye contact with none other than Potter himself, and yelped, jumping up away from him before feeling his left arm yanked back painfully, pain blossoming up his forearm. He looked around, his eyes wide in panic, and realized that he was lying in the infirmary. He was lying in an infirmary bed with Potter. His first thought was that he was tied to the bed- but that didn’t make sense, why would they tie Potter up with him?

The memory of the potions class came flooding back to him, and his eyes slowly moved to his left arm, to see that his robes had been burned away, likely by the potion. His mark was out on full display, the faded symbol standing out against his pale skin. his eyes went a little further, and his stomach lurched at the sight.

About halfway through Draco’s arm, the skin changed, and suddenly his arm was Potter’s arm, the flesh attached by not only skin but bone,  their bodies joined together at the elbows down to the wrist, leaving their hands free. A sound of disgust was let out by Draco, and he gave an experimental pull, feeling the skin lightly pull before tugging back. A hiss of pain made his head snap up, and he saw Potter glaring at him.

“Yes, Malfoy, I am aware our arms are glued together, but for fuck’s sake, if you yank on my arm one more time i’ll shove it up your arse.”

Instead of a sarcastic remark, all Draco would do was stare at the man of whom he was stuck to. His mouth hung open for a moment, before he shook his head, regaining his composure and looking over at Potter. He was about to say something, when the doors of the infirmary were thrown open, and Professor Mcgonagall strolled into the infirmary, her robes billowing behind her as curious students peeked around the previously locked doors. She walked straight up to the two men on the bed, and Granger and Weasley stepped aside, allowing her to stand next to the bed.

“Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy, how are you two feeling?” She asked calmly, staring at them over the rim of her glasses. The two boys shrugged, Draco rubbing his temple with his right hand. Potter sat up, yanking lightly on Draco’s arm, as he asked,

“What happened?”

“Well, mister Potter, why don’t you tell me? From what I heard from Professor Slughorn, you two were behaving like firstyears, having a schoolyard brawl in the potions class, and a spell was sent flying that knocked your potion onto you, and thus doing this. Am I right to assume this is the truth?”

Potter glanced away, looking down at the ground for a moment in shame. Her eyes looked over to Draco, and he was about to speak, when Potter piped up,

“It was my fault professor, I was in a bad mood and i wouldn’t help, he had the right to get mad at me.”

Draco stared at Potter, bewildered, but Mcgonagall nodded, continuing, “We are in the process of finding who sent the spell that caused the accident, but nobody saw who sent the curse. From what Professor Slughorn said, you were brewing a binding potion, which is a potion of which-”

“binds two inorganic substances together magically,  lasting between a week and three months.” Draco whispered, realizing what had happened. “Do you know what the curse we were hit with was?”

“I am unsure at this point, but I have a hunch that it was a Epoximise. An advanced curse, with the similar effect of the bonding potion that you brewed. Professor Slughorn is under the impression that your potion was improperly brewed, and the curse responded with the potion, doubling the existing effect as well as possibly causing unknown side effects. Madame Pomfrey will be along soon to check on your vitals, as we have to sort out your arrangements until this has passed, along with the best way to seprate you two as to continue with every day life. We will keep you both updated, but stay here until I return.”

With that, Mcgonagall turned on her heels, walking out and leaving them to themselves. Weasel patted Potter on the shoulder, giving him an empathetic “Bloody hell.”

“I’m right here, Weasel. I have ears, if you haven’t noticed, and I can hear you muttering about me from a mile away.”

“If you haven’t noticed, Malfoy, I don’t give a shit about what you hear.”

“Ronald!” Granger whispered, glaring at the red headed boy and shaking her head curtly. Potter just carded his other hand through his hair, shaking his head. He turned to Draco, looking at him and asking,

“How long did you say the effects of this would last?” He looked tired, fed up with everything, and Draco felt a momentary pang of sympathy. He shrugged, answering,

“Anywhere from a week to a few months, with just the potion. Combined with a spell, who knows? My guess would be a month at most.”

Potter looked crestfallen, and he raised his eyebrow, feeling a sudden surge of annoyance. Did Potter really find the idea of spending time with him that abhorrent? Draco shook his head, his other hand moving over to gingerly touch his arm, his fingers running over the marred skin. The place where the join was resembled an acid burn, the skin riddled with mounds and texture, the area raw and almost red looking. To his surprise, Potter’s side of the arm twitched, and he noticed the boy almost gasp when he touched the skin. He ran his finger along the seam, and Potter jerked their arm, glaring at him.

“Stop it, would you?”

“What’s wrong, your arm sensitive, Potter?”

“Yes, and if you don’t stop i’ll shove it up your arse.”

Draco smirked, raising his eyebrows and grinning maniacally. “Wow, Potter, I wasn’t aware you were into that.”

He watched as the boy beside him sputtered, and Granger and Weasley gaped at him, eyes wide and mouths hanging open. Draco smirked, grinning to himself and reaching for his wand. His father had had the common sense to have multiple wands hidden around the Manor, and he had found one over the summer while he was confined to house arrest, 8 inch Holly and Unicorn hair. He wasn’t overly fond of it, and found it didn’t feel right in his hands, but he found it was versatile enough so that he could wield it right handed, albeit rather clumsily. He zoned out the trio’s conversations, pointing his wand out at an empty flask across the room. silently casting a levitation spell at it and attempting to levitate it over to him.

Halfway through the trip over to their shared bed, the magic faultered, and the bottle fell to the floor, shattering loudly and drawing the attention of everybody in the room. Madame Pomphrey came bustling into the room, tuttling and sending a glare out to the two boys on the bed.

“Mr Malfoy, I know you’re confused, but it’d be preferable that you don’t break the entire infirmary in the meantime. Now, let’s take a look at you two, Hmm?” She vanished the broken glass, walking forward and casting some diagnosis spells over the two of them, noting of the physical side effects. She tapped her wand smartly against their arm, and both of the boys jumped at the contact, attempting again to yank their arms away. They hissed in pain as Pomphrey scribbled a few notes on some parchment, humming to herself as she looked at them. She ran her wand along Draco’s arm, turning to Potter. “Could you feel that, Mr Potter?”

He nodded, looking repulsed. Pomphrey nodded, muttering,

“Interesting…”

“What?” They asked at the same time, glaring at each other.

“It appears that the nerves in both your arms have been bonded, almost weaving together like a web.” At their panicked faces, she began assuring them, “Don’t worry! It won’t be permanent. For the potion alone, it shan’t last more than a few months. The spell will just accentuate this, and my professional guess would be that it shall last approximately 6 months.”

“What?” Draco snapped, his eyes widened. The reality of the situation was setting in, and he realized that there was a very great chance that he would be stuck to Potter for the rest of the school year, or, worse, longer. Long enough so that he couldn’t go home, because how could he go home to the Manor with a disgruntled Potter stuck to his arm? He couldn’t face his mother, and it’s not like he could just wait around for this to wear off. He had a house arrest to see to. And christmas break, how could either of them go anywhere over the break? His heart was beating wildly, thinking about being stuck, for months, having to sleep with Potter, in bed with him…

His heart was beating out of his chest, and Potter turned to him, looking at him sharply as he sat, his body going rigid. Madam Pomphrey waved her wand, nodding and tucking her wand away.

“Mister Weasley, Mrs Granger, you still have classes, correct? You had better get back to them.” When the two began to protest, she held up her hand to silence them, speaking, “Mister Potter is in my care, you don’t have to worry for his safety. Now go along, before you miss your next class.”

Granger took hold of Potter’s hand, grasping it and smiling before rushing out with Weasley, of whom whacked him on the shoulder before following her. They passed by Mcgonagall, who strolled back in purposefully, walking directly to the to men in the bed.

“Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy, I believe we’ve found suitable arangements for you until further notice. A secluded room on the 7th floor, secured with an extra large bed and… facilities.” She cleared her throat, turning to Madame Pomphrey.

“Poppy, have you figured out the circumstances of their curse?”

“It appears to just be an exaggarated binding potion, with some unusual circumstances. As  the potion reacted with the spell, it caused the nerves in both boys’ arms to interconnect, so if I were to say, flick mister Potter’s wrist,” She demonstrated by lightly flicking his arm, causing both him and Draco to wince, “ Mr Malfoy here can feel it as well.”

“Is it permanent?” Mcgonagall murmured, staring at the boy’s arms that were melded together.

“No, no, while it may be longer lasting than usual, it is most definitely not permanent. The longest it’ll last, I’d say, would be about 6 months. Hopefully it’ll have worn off way before then, but who knows.”

“Alright. Would it be unsafe to attempt to separate them before that period? Or would that cause too much harm?”

“I’m afraid not. If this were caused by some sort of natural issue it would be okay, but because of the magical properties behind both the spell and the potion, if we were to attempt something of the sort permanant nerve damage could occur. What was Slughorn thinking, I’ve had too many accidents with the 7th and 8th years because of these dangerous potions accidents.”  
  


“Sorry, Poppy, but We don’t have much of a choice on our teachers, especially for such specific subjects as Potions or Defence. Until we can find someone more suitable, we’re stuck with Horace.” Her face was pulled up into a grimace, and Draco understood. Slughorn was a shit teacher, his ridiculous favourites club got on Draco‘s nerves to no end.

The two conversed as though the two boys weren’t even there, and the two made eye contact, Draco raising his eyebrows into his usual pointy expression, and Harry just shrugged. Both of their attention went back to the teachers when they heard their names mentioned.

“Are both Mr Potter and Malfoy well enough to leave?”

“I should think so, they’ve been here for most of the afternoon. I’d like to see them again after dinner, however.” She turned to the two boys, gesturing to the door. “You two are free to go. Please come by before bed.” With that, she turned, walking back to her private quarters, leaving the two boys and McGonagall.

“If you two will come with me, I can show you to your rooms while classes are in session, so you can attempt to get around without being bombarded in the halls. Come on, gentlemen.”

She turned on her heels, walking from the room and forcing the two boys to attempt to run off after her. They both tried to jump off the bed, before the two of them were yanked back together, gasping in pain as they pulled on their melded skin. They faced each other, glaring as their arms stretched painfully across the bed.

“Giving me dirty looks won’t fix the issue, Malfoy. Let’s just figure this out.”

“Come on then, just climb over the bed.”

Harry gave him a confused look, and Draco scoffed. rolling his eyes. “I don’t know how you’re known as a saviour if you can’t even solve a simple bloody problem, Potter. Climb. Over. The. Bed.”

Potter groaned, shaking his head as he made his way over the bed, crawling awkwardly with his 3 usable limbs. Once he made it over the obstacle, he glared at Draco, muttering, “A please probably wouldn’t kill you once in a while, Malfoy.”

“Kindness is overrated, I’d rather just be annoyed at everybody and then not have to worry about it.”

Potter chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Kill him with kindness. I guess that’s how I’ll survive these next months then.”

A pang of anxiety went through Draco as he remembered that he’d be stuck, attached to the other man for months to come.His previous mood was suddenly soured, and he gently yanked on his arm, turning his head to the open doors that Mcgonagall has just disappeared down.

“We had better get going.” He said, suddenly exhausted. Potter nodded, and they both began walking after the headmistress, stumbling awkwardly in an attempt to find a comfortable pace. They tried to walk as far away as possible while still having their arms together, not wanting to touch but not wanting the painful tension on their arms. They met up with Mcgonagall on the east wing of the 7th floor, where she was standing impatiently, tapping her shoes on the floor. She tapped her wand against the door, and it unlocked. She ushered the two boys inside, and they stepped in, looking around the room.

It was very obviously recently transfigured, a regular four poster into a king-sized bed, big enough for them to both sleep comfortably. There was an attaching door, a bathroom that was barely big enough for one of them, and they both looked around the room, unimpressed. Once they had taken in their fill of the room, they turned to her, waiting for her to say something.

“Classes have just ended, dinner will be soon. I suggest you two talk it out and figure out your… arrangements for being with friends and such. As for your classes, Mister Potter, as you have magical creatures care first period, I’d prefer for you to accompany Mr Malfoy to Transfiguration, and I’ll talk to Hagrid later today to figure out a way to make up. Mr Malfoy, I’d like you to take your spare study period and accompany Mister Potter to Astronomy. With that all done, i’d suggest you two get settled and go down to dinner. Goodnight, boys.” She said in her matter-of-fact voice, turning on her heel and walking out, her regal posture making her menacing and making Draco shrink down in her shadow.

Once she was gone, Potter sighed, and moved back to the bed, tugging Draco along with him. He jumped down on the great bed, and Draco was yanked down, and slumped beside him, groaning. He was pleased to note that the bed was rather plush, and ran his fingers along the soft fabric. They laid there in silence for a bit, waiting for the other to speak up.

“Which table are we sitting at?” Harry finally spoke up, looking over with a tired glance. Draco remembered that he hadn’t much sleep even before the incident, and that he probably felt just as shitty as Draco did, and he felt a pang of understanding towards the other boy. Draco just turned to him, zoning out as he mumbled a soft,

“Hmm?”

“Table. Like, for dinner? We still have to eat, Malfoy.”

Draco  sneered at him, rolling his eyes at the stupidity of the other man. Surely the savior didn’t want any more attention than he was already getting? “You want to sit in the great hall? I knew you enjoyed being in the spotlight, but I didn’t pin you as that much of an attention whore, Potter. The moment we go in there we’ll be swamped in a sea of your adoring fans, and i‘d wish to not become the newest subject for gossip.”

Potter gave him a curious glance, his tone questioning and riddled with sarcasm as he asked, “Well, princess, where would you rather eat? Last time I checked, food was served in the great hall.”

“And where is the food prepared, Potter? Last time i checked, there was a small army of house elves that kiss the very ground you walk on, I’m sure they’re very understanding.”

He seemed to consider this for a moment, before nodding and standing, pulling Draco to his feet by their joined arm. Draco swatted at him, hissing in pain as Potter said, “Let’s go then, i’d like to beat the crowds, preferably without getting stepped on.”

Draco couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the statement. How could Potter be so daft, he acted as though he were invisible, like nobody could see them! People would probably be out looking for him, trying to save him from the horrible ‘Death Eater scum.’ Draco sneered, “I don’t think anybody’s going to step on us, Potter, if you haven’t noticed we don’t exactly blend into the crowd.”

A mischevious smirk grew on Potter’s face, and he reached into his knapsack, rustling around for something with his free arm. Draco tapped his foot against the ground impatiently, waiting for the git to find whatever he was looking for. He heard a triumphant yelp, and he looked and saw a shimmering cloak, silvery and velvety looking to the touch. Draco raised a singular eyebrow, his already angular face looking slightly more pointy as he drawled,

“Ah yes, good thinking, Potter! We can look fashionable while people hex me in the halls. Brilliant, i’m glad i’m stuck with someone as clever as you.” The sarcasm dripped heavily in his voice, and he saw Potter get that curious look, looking as though there was a question on the tip of his tongue. He thought better of it, shaking his head slightly and pulling the cloak up, over their heads. Draco glanced around, confused, and his eye landed on the bathroom mirror, where his jaw dropped in amazement. Their reflection wasn’t showing up! It was as though they were…

“Is this an invisibility cloak, Potter?” He lacked the usual sass in his voice, instead sounding slightly amazed as he stared at the mop headed boy.

“Might be,” Potter grinned, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly and pulling out his wand. “ah, first, could I use my arm? It’s my casting arm, and I need to let Ron and Hermione know we won’t be there.”

“Yes, i’m sure they’ll miss me so terribly,” Draco sniffed, allowing his arm to go limp so Potter could do what he needed. It felt strange, someone else in control of his arm, but he didn’t comment on it, instead glancing around impatiently for the man to hurry up.  His gaze went back to Potter, however, when he heard the spell that the other boy said.

“Expecto Patronum!”

Draco gasped, softly, as he felt the powerful magic of the spell run through his arm, their conjoined nerves tingling with the sensation of the spell. It felt as though he could sense the memory, the happiness that Harry used to summon the creature. He stood, confidently, arm out with his wand in his hand, standing up straight with a gentle smile as he looked at the creature that erupted from the wand tip. Draco had heard that Potter could cast a patronus, of course, but he had never seen it. It was a magnificent glowing stag, and it pranced off with a flick of his wand, running through the walls to tell the other Gryffindors of his location.

When Potter tucked his wand back into his cloak, Draco realized he’d been staring, wide mouthed, and he quickly shut his trap, standing up straight and nodding. Harry had a twinkle in his eye, and he asked softly,

“It’s a beauty, isn’t it?”

“It’s… Decent.” Draco tried not to sound in awe, but he could tell that Potter had seen past the facade, and could tell how impressed he was. The other man asked, quietly,

“What’s yours?”

“Pardon?”

“What’s your patronus? What animal is it, I mean.” Potter offered, and Draco stiffened up, the soft, almost pleasant moment having passed quickly.

“I’m absolutely starving, i’d say we get going, wouldn’t you?” Draco snapped a little too quickly, obviously trying to change the subject, and he began walking, pulling on their arm and continuing despite the twang of pain that ran through the nerves at the pull. Potter hurried along after, moving quickly to try and keep the tension on their arm to a minimum. There were people milling about in the halls, groups of small first and second years slowly making their way to the great hall. Draco envied them, the luxury of eating with friends seemingly long gone. He hoped that perhaps the shock of the two of them being conjoined would wear off, and they could go back to daily activities without feeling like he was about to be killed. The two made their way down quickly to the dungeons, their footsteps on the grand stairwell hidden by the loud chatter of classmates around them. They bumped into a few people, but other than that they were undetected. Draco found he was rather enjoying it, being able to walk around without receiving dirty stares and death threats, just being a normal student, even if it meant hiding in a cramped cloak with Potter.

The air in the dungeon was cooler, and it was pleasant to walk through, the halls empty as usual and quiet aside from their soft footfalls. Potter turned and strode in his confident way to a painting, a bowl of fruit on a table. He lifted the cloak, and reached out, rubbing his finger along a particularly antsy pear. It giggled, and the wall melted away, revealing the kitchens. The two of them walked in, and all the elves turned to face them, wide eyed and shocked looking. Potter cleared his throat, speaking up.

“Kreacher!” a crack echoed through the room, and a rather deathly looking elf appeared, its skin hanging from its body in wrinkled rolls and its eyes too large for its small head. It must be loyal to Potter, because it bowed, its pointed ears brushing the ground as it did so. It spoke up quietly, asking,

“What can Kreacher be doing for master Potter and…” It turned its head, looking directly at Draco, and its already bug-eyed eyes widened, and he let out an audible gasp. “Master Malfoy! Kreacher is honoured to be in the presence of such royal blood, sirs. What can I do for you?”

Potter rolled his eyes, shaking his head and sparing a quick glance at Draco. He had a smirk on his face, and he remembered the house elf faintly. He remembered his auntie Black, before she died, had this particular house elf, and it swore upon working for the pureblooded family to its death. How Potter managed to get it to Hogwarts was something else.

“Yes, Kreacher, I’d like you to prepare the two of us a tray with whatever is being served for dinner, and preferably with some treacle tart thrown in.” The house elf nodded, and disappeared into the crowd of elves, and they all began working to prepare their dinner tray. Draco rolled his eyes at Potter, and the black haired boy cast him a sheepish grin.

“I love-”

“Yes, you love treacle tart, I am very aware.”

Potter raised his eyebrows, giving him a look. Draco flushed, realizing that he had admitted to watching Potter eat. Thankfully, the house elf appeared in front of them before any questions could be asked, handing the two men a tray full of food, enough for five people. Potter grinned, taking it with his two hands, pulling Draco’s arm along for the ride.

“Thank you, Kreacher.”

“Of course, master Potter. Is that be all you are needing?” The elf spared a side look at Draco, and he nodded curtly at the elf. Satisfied by Draco’s attention, he turned back to the kitchen, disappearing again through the bustling crowd of elves. There was a small bench in the kitchen, against one of the walls, and the two men went over to it, sitting and placing the tray on the table and beginning to eat. They ate in silence for a moment, Draco thankful for the food as he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Eventually, though, his curiosity got the better of him, and he turned to Potter, sniffing and trying to make himself sound as uncaring as possible despite his curiosity.

“I didn’t know you had a house elf, Potter, I thought Granger would have had your head what with her whole spew business.”  
  
Potter shrugged, his mouth full of chicken when he spoke, making Draco recoil from his terrible manners. “It’s S.P.E.W, and honestly, I didn’t have a choice in the bloody elf.” He swallowed his mouthful, and continued. “Sirius left him and the black house to me, but I figured that Kreacher would be much happier surrounded by others of his kind, so I told him to come here during the year. Besides, I can take care of myself, so I don’t really need him besides the summer when he helps me clean up the ruddy old house.”

“You live in the Black house?” Draco couldn’t stop himself from asking, surprised. The blacks were his cousins, and he was aware that Sirius had died, but he hadn’t thought that he was the last in line. It appeared that he was, and that he had left the house to Potter.

“Yep, despite what that hag in her picture frame has to say about me, it’s all mine.”

Draco snorted at the memory of his aunt, her head in the picture frame glaring at them whenever they came over, and he could only imagine what he would say to Potter, with his mud- Muggleborn and blood traitor friends. He cursed himself mentally. After the war, once he had realized how wrong his father and the dark lord’s ideations were, he had vowed to try and change his views, especially once he realized what a clever witch Granger was. He could appreciate her brilliance once his head was removed from his father’s arse and he could think for himself. He shook his head to clear his mind, and glanced over at the house elves, zoning out in their bustled running, sending the food that they were cooking to the great hall.

“Malfoy?”

He snapped around, staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, you looked like you were zoning out.”

“Yeah, I suppose I was. I was just thinking of house elves.”

“What do you mean?”

Draco snorted, shaking his head. “What else could it mean, Potter?”

“You don’t have house elves? I thought the Malfoy house elves were iconic.”

“They were, until they were seized and released from duty.”

Potter raised his eyebrows, looking genuinely shocked. “You were forced to free them?”

“That’s what I said, wasn’t it? Last time I checked, you weren’t deaf, Potter.”

“Why?”

Draco shuffled on his seat, slightly uncomfortable. Why did Potter care about the state of the Manor?

“I thought you were at the d-” He gulped, glancing away for a moment. He hated the word, especially thinking of himself with that term. “The Death eater trials?”

It was Potter’s turn to shuffle awkwardly, and he nodded unsurely. “I was at the first few, but I got rather bored. They took your house elves?” Draco nodded.

“The only house elf we see delivers my Mother food, as she can’t just waltz out and get it herself.”

Potter was silent for a moment, registering what he had to say. In the meantime, he continued eating, until yet another interruption from Potter disturbed him.

“You get food delivered? Are you so bloody arrogant you can’t get your own food?” He sounded annoyed this time, and Draco clenched his fists, grinding his teeth together in anger.

“For your information, Potter, I’d be more than happy to go and get my own food, if my mother or I were allowed to leave the fucking house,”

Potter's eyes widened,, and Draco turned back to eating, forcefully attempting to slice through his meat with the use of only one hand. He felt Potter’s eyes on him, but he refused to look at the other boy, digging through his meal with angry vigour. He was almost done when he heard the other man quietly mutter,

“'m sorry.”

He then turned back to eating, and the two finished their meal in silence. They finished, but didn’t leave quite yet, sitting in silence for a while. Draco pulled out his homework, checking through the transfiguration text and finding that he had 15 inches to write on appearance spells. He sighed, pulling out his quill and beginning to write, noticing Potter looking over his shoulder at his elegant scrawl. A sound from behind startled him, and he whipped around, his hand flying to his wand. He saw Granger and the Weasel coming through the kitchen door, and relaxed slightly, returning back to the parchment in front of him. The two Gryffindors came over, Weasley choosing to sit on the opposite side of Draco, and Granger hovering between them for a moment before choosing to sit next to Draco. He shuffled over to make room for her, and she gave him a light smile before joining in on the other two’s conversation. He went back to his transfiguration work, listening in every so often.

“How’re you holding up, mate?”

“Better than expected, I guess.”

Weasley thumped the other man on the back, something that Weasley did far too often, and sending a glare at Draco. He rolled his eyes, and went back to writing, blocking out the conversation around him. He heard something about Gryffindors, quidditch, and rumours that were flying around the castle. Draco realized with a pang he couldn’t play quidditch with the other man attached to his arm, and he sighed, clenching hid fist hard enough to snap his quill. Granger noticed, and turned to look at him, giving him a sympathetic look as he repaired his quill and went back to scratching on the parchment, annoyed and pointedly ignoring her. He felt a tender hand on his arm, and he jumped, whipping around to see Granger looking over his paper. He glared, muttering,

“Can I help you?”

“Oh, sorry!” She said, and gestured to his paper. “I noticed you’re taking transfiguration too.” He nodded stiffly, prompting her to continue. “Did you do human transfiguration today too?” He nodded, slightly relaxing as they began to talk about the lesson of the day. “What spells did you use?” She asked, curious. He shrugged, a cautious smile on his face.

“All I got to do was turn Greg’s hair orange, he spent the rest of the class trying to turn my head into a tentacle.” She outright laughed at that, covering her mouth with her hands to stifle the laughter.

“Did he succeed?”

“Does my head look like an octopus to you, Granger?” He asked, but his sarcastic smirk gave away the joke, and she chuckled, shrugging.

“You could have fooled me,” Weasley muttered darkly, and they both turned to him, and he noticed that her glare was even more vile looking than Draco’s own, which made him laugh inside. First year Draco would have hated the thought of him befriending a muggleborn, but he had to admit, Granger was pretty decent, for one of Potter’s friends.

“Ronald!” She snapped, her glare piercing daggers into the redhead.

“Weasley,” Draco sniffed, turning his nose up at him. “It’d be nice if you at least attempted to be civil, it’ll make the next months slightly more pleasant.”

Weasley’s face paled, and he began stuttering, “M-months? How long is this bloody curse supposed to last?”

He noticed Granger rolling her eyes, and Potter glanced guiltily away, as though he felt bad for making Weasley endure his company for so long. Granger was the one who spoke up, snapping,

“Well, Ron, if you listened every so often to anything that happened in potions, you’d be aware of the fact that the potion we brewed can last for at least 3 months.”

Weasley’s mouth hung wide open, and Draco snorted, rolling his eyes. Potter spoke up next, his voice quiet and sounding oddly guilty.

“Madam Pomphrey said it could last up to the end of the year.”

“You’re going to catch flies like that, Weasley, close your bloody mouth.” Draco yawned, stretching and raising both his arms above his head, yanking Potter up awkwardly. “Granger, did we have Potions homework?”

“Not today, Slughorn was too traumatized by your accident to assign anything.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “I hate Slughorn, he’s the worst potions master we’ve ever had. I can’t wait until I-” He cut himself off, biting his cheek. He shouldn’t be talking about this to the Gryffindors, how could he trust them? Granger, however, picked up on what he meant, her eyes going wide,

“Ooh, you want to become the new potions Master?”

Unfortunately, the other two heard their conversation as well, and Weasley snorted. He was laughing, and despite Potter giving him a confused look, obviously not understanding what he was laughing at, Draco grew absolutely livid.

“You, the new potions master? Merlin, I can’t wait until you begin teaching the little first years how to poison their enemies, betray their friends for dark wizards, and use their daddies’ money to get whatever they want. Slughorn is a better teacher than you'll ever be, Malfoy.”

Draco stood up, fuming, Potter jumping up alarmingly as Draco whipped his wand out, pointing it at Weasley. “You little fucking Weasel, I swear on Salazar’s grave-”

He felt his arm get ripped away, and realized that he had instinctively used his left hand to draw his wand. Potter pulled their arms away, resting his own arm against his chest and ripping the wand out of his hand.

“Don’t threaten my friends, Malfoy.”

“Yeah, Ferret face,” Weasley taunted, but Granger’s eyes glinted dangerously, and she was about to say something before Draco took his wand back, stepping away stiffly with a dark look in his eyes.

“I think we’re going to our room.” He nodded his head once at Granger, and turned, yanking Potter over and storming from the kitchen, not even bothering with the invisibility cloak. He walked swiftly, his feet slamming down in heavy footfalls.

“Malfoy, MALFOY!” Potter was trying to stop, yanking on their arm, but Draco was absolutely furious, and refused to stop. Potter eventually gave up trying to stop, and followed swiftly, all the way up to the seventh floor. Fortunately there was nobody in the halls at the time, and Draco could storm to the best of his ability, not stopping for anything before he shoved the door open, walking in and slamming down on the bed.

“What is your fucking problem, Malfoy?” Potter snapped, breathing heavily from the run up there.

“My problem?” Draco said, his voice cracking, “what is MY problem?”

“Yeah. What is your problem. You went from being dent one moment to an absolute prick the next.”

“My problem is your bloody fucking Weasel of a friend!”

“Don’t fucking call Ron that, he’s more courageous than you’ll ever be.”

Draco felt a pang of anger, as well as something akin to guilt, but he refused to give, snarling,

“Well maybe if he wasn’t such a bastard, I wouldn’t have to!”

“And just what did he do to deserve to be called a bastard?” Potter said, his voice eerily calm and quiet.

“Were you not listening at all?”

Potter looked confused, but replied anyway. “He was talking about Slughorn?”

“What.” Draco guaffed. Unbelievable. Potter was legitimately fucking deaf. “No, Potter, he wasn’t just ‘Talking about Slughorn.’ He told me flat out i’d make a terrible potions master, insulting both my career choice and my rather stellar education on the subject. I think he deserved more than a simple threat, and if I wasn’t stuck to you, i’d have punched his face in, I swear on Salazar’s slimy snake prick.”

Potter snorted at his exclamation, but realized he'd have to talk to Ron later and sighed.

“I-I didn’t realize.”

“Yeah, no bloody shit. Nobody ever complimented you on your ability to listen, I’d reckon.”

Potter sighed, glancing away guiltily. He gulped, and Draco adjusted his robes, his fingers brushing over the faded mark.

“I’m sorry, Malfoy.”

Draco sighed, letting out a shaky breath and closing his eyes. “I was trying to get along with your stupid friends. You need to tell Weasley that if he doesn’t become even slightly agreeable, he can’t be here because I can’t.” He looked Potter dead in the eyes, his arms slightly shaking with anxiety. “If I step one foot out of line i’ll be sent to sodding azkaban and I can’t do it. I was trying to avoid everything so i could just serve out this year and hide at home for a few years, and then all this shit happened and I bloody can’t deal with this and having to take shit from your ignorant arse of a friend.”

Potter stared at him, his face emotionless. He looked deep in thought, and Draco couldn't figure out about what. Potter had gotten better at hiding his emotions, and Draco missed the way emotion played across his face. Potter nodded after a moment, and he grinned. “What do I say?”

Draco’s mouth curved into a nervous yet mischievous grin, and he replied, “Can I suggest a howler?”

Potter laughed, and the sound made Draco’s smile grow larger, and he gave his best imitation of Potter, snapping, “Ronald Weasley! You insufferable git, have you never heard of basic human decency? If you say one more thing to the amazingly brilliant Draco Malfoy,” He paused to make a dramatic pose, “I’ll hex your bollocks off and make soup out of them!”

Potter’s laugh was contagious, and soon the two boys were sitting on the bed, laughing hard with tears in their eyes. Draco took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but failing, leaning against Potter’s shoulder, sniggering at the thought of hexxing Weasley’s bollocks off. He took some deep breaths, steadying himself and sitting up. The other man wiped his eyes under his glasses, his eyes shimmering with the remnants of laughter. When he was amused, Potter's eyes always shone brilliantly, and Draco found himself getting lost in them. Potter yawned, stretching and resting back on the bed, kicking off his trainers.

“So how should we go about… This?” Draco asked, suddenly uncertain.

“Hmm?”

“Erm… Nighttime rituals?” Draco said, attempting to make himself clear, but failing as Potter turned to him, his eyes wide.

“I seriously hope you aren’t trying to say-”

“Potter, you disgusting prat, no I don’t mean that!” He whacked Potter on the shoulder, shaking his head. “I meant get dressed into pyjamas, use the washroom, ect cetera.”

Potter’s face blushed, and he shrugged. “I dunno, cut off our robes? look away?”

“Cut off our bloody robes… are you mad? These robes cost more than you're worth!” Draco said, indignant.

“Alright, how would you like to get your clothes off, Malfoy? Just apparate out of them?” Draco paused, as though he was truly considering it, before sighing. After making his point, Draco scowled, and stood, taking out his wand. He sighed, looking at his robes and dress shirt lovingly, before pointing his wand at the left side of his robes, silently casting a spell and beginning to cut through his clothes. He made about halfway down his torso before glancing up, and realizing Potter was watching him.

“Can I have a little bit of privacy, or is that not even allowed?” He snapped, and Potter blushed, turning his head to the other wall and staring with interest at the patterns in the stone. Draco humphed, finishing the cutting job and shrugging his robes off, slicing the sleeve off and letting it drop to the ground. He pulled on his night pants, a t-shirt and a pair of navy blue boxer shorts. He ran his fingers through his light blonde hair, sighing.

“Your turn, Potter.”

He turned his head, and felt Potter take control of their arm, using it to cut the arm off the robes as Draco's hand dangled limply. He sat, waiting and tapping his foot impatiently, when he felt the arm stop, magic no longer thrumming through their shared veins, and he assumed it safe, turning his head. Draco saw Potter stopped, still and staring at Draco’s pale arm, the faded black mark standing out on his alabaster skin. They both sat perfectly still, both of them holding their breath, before Draco came to his senses, yanking his arm away.

“Don’t fucking touch it,” he snarled, his grey eyes piercing into Potter’s eyes.

“S-sorry, i’ve just- I’ve never-.”

“I’m not a fucking exhibit, Potter.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, turning his head away in what seemed to be shame. Draco glared, and he stood, pulling the both of them to their feet. “I call first to the bathroom,” Potter offered, trying to lighten the mood.

“No bloody way, I call washroom first,” Draco said in a matter of fact way, as though he could never be wrong.

“I’ll rock paper scissors you for it,” Potter challenged, and Draco gasped, looking terrified.

“You’ll what me?”

Potter looked like he was about to laugh, and it didn’t make Draco feel any more secure. “It’s a muggle game, Malfoy,” He began to explain, “You make a fist, and on three you either put down rock, paper, or scissors,” He showed Draco the hand signs, and Draco stared at him with growing confusion, “And rock beats scissors, paper beats rock, and scissors beat paper.”

Draco was silent for a moment, but all he could think of was that Potter was smiling at him, and to be on the receiving end of his smile was actually quite pleasant. He realized Potter was waiting for him to say something, so he snorted, shaking his head.

“Potter, you make absolutely no sense. I still get the bathroom first.” He strolled over to the washroom, stepping in and realizing there was an issue when Potter was pulled into the washroom with him. “I’d find standing outside works, Potter, unless you were born in a barn.” Potter leaned out of the room, stretching as far as he could despite the stretching pain on his arm. Draco sighed, casting a silent muffilato and relieving himself. He tucked himself in, and stepped out, pointing to the washroom and switching spots with Potter, allowing him to do the same.

Once they were done with the bathroom, they turned back, walking to their bed, where they encountered the next problem. Sleeping.

They sat down on the bed, glancing around awkwardly. Draco summoned his homework, and curled up against a couple of pillows, pulling his herbology book towards him and beginning his work to write a compilative list of common lethal plants used in potions. His quill scratching against the parchment was the only sound in the room besides their breathing.

“Would you be mad if I turned the light out?” Potter asked softly, and Draco shook his head, too engrossed in his work. Potter waved his wand, and the lights went out, casting the room in darkness. As Draco pulled out his wand, Potter rolled over as best he could, murmuring, “Goodnight, Malfoy.”

“Night Potter,” he replied quietly, sighing and casting a lumos to throw light over the parchment as he continued writing. At midnight, according to his tempus charm, he finished, setting his work aside and laying down, closing his eyes. He felt Potter shift behind him, and sighed. The feeling of somebody else next to him, even if he wasn’t a friend, was nice, comforting even, and Draco was asleep within minutes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the first full day of the binding curse hits the boys hard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YALL IM SO SORRY,, i didnt have a laptop for the longest time so i couldnt type but now!!!! im back!!!!!! with more fuckhead boys

Draco woke up as usual at the crack of dawn, yawning and sighing, rolling into the arm that was thrown over him. The arm that belonged to Potter. He jumped up, letting out an indignant yell as he threw the other man’s arm off of him. Potter sat up at the tug on his arm, and groggily muttered, 

 

“Sod off,” before laying back down. 

 

“Potter,” Draco said impatiently, tapping his foot against the ground. When there was no reply, he said again, louder, “Potter! Wake the fuck up, Potter!” The other man sat up, turning and sending a glare at the blonde man.

 

“What do you want, Malfoy?”

 

“Time to get up, rise and shine.”

 

Potter cast a tempus, and groaned as he saw the time: 5:30. “Why the bloody hell do you get up so early? It isn’t even 6 am yet, why do you need to be up?”

 

Draco glanced away, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t understand, Potter. Its too much for your little Gryffindor brain to handle, so I won’t bother explaining to you.”

 

“Whatever, i’m going back to sleep, so just try and stop me.” Potter laid back down, yawning and stretching, yanking his arm back to pull Draco back down onto the bed. Potter was back asleep in moments, and Draco was pissed. He had barely been up for five minutes and Potter was already under his skin. 

 

An idea popped into his mind, and he grinned, poking Potter in the face to make sure he was asleep. He snorted, but didn’t wake up, and Draco pointed his wand at the other man, whispering a soft, Wingardium Levoisa. Potter levitated up off the bed, still asleep, and Draco walked with him, up off the bed and carefully into the washroom. He maneuvered his limp body into the room, gently placing him down next to the shower as Draco relieved himself. He shed his clothes, proud of himself for deceiving Potter, and placed his pyjamas carefully on the counter. He turned the water on, stepping into the shower and sighing as hot water cascaded over his body. 

 

He was glad all of his stuff was already in the room, and his body wash was in the shower already. He squeezed the bottle into his hand, as the other one was so rudely attached to a sleeping Potter. He lathered his body up, pouring shampoo in his hair and scrubbing it vigorously. Soap was running down his chest, and he was running his hands along his body, considering a good wank, when he heard mumbling on the other side of the shower curtain, and then, a shocked yelp, yanking on his arm and nearly pulling him from the shower.

 

“MALFOY, WHAT THE FUCK,” Potter yelped, trying to scramble away from the shower and yanking Draco with him. Draco shut the water off, quickly grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his body before he was pulled out. “Malfoy, what the hell,” Potter ground out, staring at him with tired eyes.

 

“You went back to sleep, so I decided to shower without waking you,” Draco said, smiling sweetly with a fake tone to his voice. “Do you need the shower?” Potter nodded, rubbing his eyes, and Draco stepped aside, offering him the shower. Potter stepped in, pulling the shower curtain over, separating the two from each others sight. Draco began to get dressed, pulling his clothes on. He decided on a T-shirt, which would make dressing easier. He pulled his trousers on while Potter showered, and he managed, albeit with issues. 

 

By the time Potter stepped out with a towel around his waist, Draco was fully dressed aside from his robes, and he was standing in the mirror, fixing his hair. He continued brushing and styling his head of golden blonde hair, fluffing his fringe as Potter dressed himself. Draco pulled his robes on, before stopping and taking a deep breath. He realized that the two of them together couldn’t wear a sleeve on their arm, and that meant that his dark mark wouldn’t be covered, and it was on full display. He shook nervously, and stuttered, swallowing dryly. 

 

“P-Potter?”

 

“Hm?” 

 

“I-um…” He gestured at their arm, and he went even paler, if possible. Potter looked confused, and he groaned, shaking his head. “Can you do a decent glamour?”

 

Potter gave him a weird look, shaking his head. “Why?” 

 

He sighed. Potter was ridiculously dense, and it was getting annoying. “We can’t wear sleeves with this stupid fucking arm.”

 

“So?”

 

“I have things on that arm i’d rather the entire school not see, Potter. I think you’d realize that, considering you were fondling it last night.”

 

A look of realization passed over his face, and he nodded. “I can try, if you’d like.”

 

Draco exhaled shakily, nodding. “You are quite aware that I don’t beg often, but please, P-Harry.” 

 

Potter looked shocked to hear him use his given name, but he nodded, taking his wand and pointing it at Draco’s arm. After a few tries, he cast one successfully, and it shimmered over his arm, making it look clear, though slightly darker than the rest of his arm. It was good enough for Draco, and he nodded, relaxing as his mark was covered.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“No problem,” Potter replied, looking relieved himself. Draco repaired the arm of his robes, making it look as though it was meant to only go up to his elbow, as that was where the join was. Draco cast a tempus, checking the time. It was already almost 8.

 

“Should we try going to the great hall today?” Potter offered, and Draco shrugged in reply, nodding. 

 

“It’s almost 8 anyways, perhaps we can get to a table before anybody notices.” 

 

“Sure, shall we get going?” He nodded, and Draco grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder as they left their room. They walked closely, and the halls were already abuzz with students. He felt dirty looks on his back, but he straightened his shoulders, walking stiffly with his chest puffed out. More and more people were watching them as they made their way through the halls, down the moving staircases and all the way down the grand staircase. The grand hall was already filled with students, and it got louder as they got closer. 

 

They pushed open the doors, and everybody turned to look at them, realization dawning on their faces as they began to glare daggers at Draco. Potter shuffled awkwardly as everyone stared at them, nodding his head to the Gryffindor table, which was on the opposite side of the room, at the other wall from Slytherin. They turned, and almost immediately, the hexes began hitting him. Stinging hexes began hitting his back, and every time one hit him, he noticed Potter jump, hissing softly. A tripping jinx was next, and Draco went ass over teakettle as he fell to the floor, pulling Potter along with him. Laughter ran out through the room, and Draco’s face was getting redder by the moment. The table felt as though it was on the opposite side of the world, the walk longer than felt possible. Still, they persevered, getting up and attempting to make their way over.

 

Draco felt something else, a different hex, hit his back, and nothing happened for a moment, so he assumed it had failed. For one glorious moment he thought nothing was wrong, but then he felt something in the back of his throat, and he stopped dead, staring at Potter with wide eyes. The other man gave him a strange look, and Draco was about to say something when he felt something growing in his chest, putting a strange pressure on his esophagus. He closed his mouth, shaking his head violently. 

 

“Malfoy, what is it?” Potter whispered, looking confused. Draco felt something crawl along his tongue, and he turned on his heel, running from the room with his hand over his mouth and Potter getting pulled along. He heard laughter ring out through the hall, and Mcgonagall’s voice faintly in the distance, berating the students in the hall. One last tripping jinx hit his ankle as he made his way out, and he tripped as he rounded the corner from the hall, giving up and letting a dark, slimy slug be launched from his mouth. Potter gasped, and grabbed Draco, yanking him along quickly to the nearest men’s loo and locking the door behind them. 

 

The moment that they were alone, Draco collapsed to his knees, heaving as great ugly slugs came slipping from between his lips, falling with soft splats to the tile below. Potter sat next to him nervously, unsure of what to do, and he summoned a garbage can, offering it to Draco as he heaved bug after slimy bug into the can. Draco’s mask had absolutely shattered, and his face had lit up red, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes and threatening to spill over as he gagged. The slugs left a disgusting taste in his mouth, and there were so many of them, coming up with every soft rumble of his stomach. Potter nervously patted his back, kneeling beside him and soothing him as best he could. 

 

After a while of silence, in which Potter just helped Draco, his fingers rubbing small circles into his back, he finally spoke up, addressing the still gagging boy softly. 

 

“Is this a normal thing that happens to you?” He murmured, his voice low and dark sounding, full of anger. It made Draco feel small, and he shrank down subconsciously, before remembering himself and took a deep breath, a shaky smirk on his lips. 

 

“No, Potter, i don’t regularly spend my time in the loo puking up slugs, thanks for asking.”

 

“Be serious.”

 

“I’m pretty sure i’ve mentioned being hexxed multiple times, Potter.”

 

Potter rolled his eyes, shrugging. “I vaguely remember you mentioning it. I just can’t believe people have been doing this to you and i haven’t noticed.” Potter gave a small frown, looking almost thoughtful. 

 

“I mean, this is the first time it’s been this bad, specifically, usually it’s just a few tripping jinxes, maybe some stinging hexes.” When he saw Potter’s face, he shook his head. “Don’t concern yourself with this, Potter, it’s my business, not your problem to be meddling in. You’ve done enough meddling in my life as it is.” His voice lacked the usual venom, however, and Potter could sense it.

 

The other man's look darkened, and he gave Draco a dark, glowering look. “Malfoy.” He sounded dangerous, though not angry at him for once, and it made Draco turn, looking into the other man’s eyes. His eyes were deep, a bright emerald green, and it made him shudder. He turned back to the rubbish can, gagging with the taste of slug on his tongue, fortunately hiding the light pink of his blush. He heard the other man sigh, and return his hand to his back. The warmth of the other boy’s hand made him relax slightly, and though he disliked the thought, the comfort Potter gave him was rather nice. 

 

It was silent for a bit, aside from the soft gagging and slugs dripping into the bottom of the bin. When Potter finally spoke again, his voice was calmer, and he seemed more relaxed. “I could feel it too, you know.” Draco glanced up, and he continued. “When those jinxes hit you, i could feel it too.”

 

“S-Sorry,” Draco gagged through the break between the slugs. Once he coughed up the ones in his throat, he turned back to finish his thought. “Of all the things you shouldn’t have to deal with, me getting jinxed should be number one on that list. You’ve dealt with enough shit for a lifetime.”

 

Potter chuckled at him, shaking his head. “You say that as though you haven’t dealt with just as much as I have. Now that we’re attached like this, Your problem is my problem.”

 

“Of course, you only care about it when it affects you.” Potter’s eyes hardened, his lips forming a thin line. 

 

“You know it isn’t like that, Malfoy.”

 

“What’s it like then, Potter? Explain why this has been happening to me for three months already, and yet you haven’t given half a rat’s arse over it before it effected you?” Potter glanced away, his eyes looking off in shame. 

 

Potter was about to reply when the door was pushed open, and both the boys whipped around to stare at the intruder to the tense moment. The intruder was, in fact, Slughorn, who looked rather sheepish, as if he understood that he had walked in on something private.

 

“Harry, m’boy, Mister Malfoy.” He glanced between the two boys, clearing his throat. “I was informed you two had had some… implications, in the great hall, and I came to check on you.” They stared at him with blank stares, and he shuffled from foot to foot. “It appears you two are fine, so i’ll be going, then.” He turned, and tried to stop himself from running from the room. The two stared off at the form of Slughorn disappearing from view, the tense moment having passed. Draco felt the hand back, the pressure comfortable and soothing to his heaving stomach. He tried not to think about why as his stomach turned and he leaned back over the can.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - 

 

The hex had worn off near the end of first period, Draco groaning, resting his head on the rim of the rubbish bucket with a sigh. He pushed himself up, standing on unsteady legs as he walked to the mirrors, pulling Potter along with him. He stood, leaning against the sink, staring at himself, bags under his eyes and his complexion even paler than normal. He wiped his face, removing the slime from his lips and rubbing at his eyes. When he opened them again, he caught sight of Potter in the reflection, and he was staring at Draco, his eyes wide, and Draco knew what he was reminded of. The memory of watching his own skin open up from his chest, blood dripping down his pale skin, made him shudder, and he closed his eyes, attempting to compose himself. 

 

His eyes whipped open, and he turned, withdrawing his wand from the holster up his sleeve and flicking it rather vehemently at the slime filled rubbish bin, snarling a quiet, ‘Evanesco,’ and watching in satisfaction as the slugs were vanished, leaving a sparkling clean bucket in its wake. He walked towards the door, Potter stumbling behind in tow and snarling at him. 

 

“Malfoy, what the fuck! Wait up, you insufferable prick.”

 

Draco stopped dead, Potter walking into him and stumbling back, falling and pulling the both of them to the ground. Potter glared at him, rubbing his elbow, which Draco assumed he had smashed it into the tile floor. 

 

“You told me to wait, I was just listening to the Chosen One.” Draco feigned a shrug of innocence, but the smugness was extremely eminent in his tone. Potter scowled, standing and pulling them up. He took the lead, walking down the grand staircase and down towards the doors. Draco yanked on his arm, pulling Potter back and looking at him.

 

“Potter, where are you taking us?”

 

“To Hagrid’s, I need to let him know i’ll have to do makeup classes.” Draco rolled his eyes, glaring at the other boy.

 

“Potter, I need to go to transfiguration, or did you not listen to Mcgonagall last night? We can visit the great oaf later, before dinner.”

 

He felt Potter tense up, their shared arm pulsing from emotion running through their veins. The darker, mop haired boy turned, clenching his fists and glaring.

 

“Malfoy, don’t fucking call him that.” Potter looked like he expected a fight, a glowering green eyed gaze piercing into what felt like his soul. Draco decided that a fight wouldn’t be wise, and instead nodded, averting his eyes and looking down to the stone floor.

 

“Can we just go to transfiguration, Potter?” He wasn’t about to apologize, and he pulled his uncaring mask out, his face turning to an uncaring sneer. He heard Potter sigh, and the two of them turned back, heading back up the stairs to Mcgonagall’s classroom in silence. 

 

They reached the class just as the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins left, and noticed all the Hufflepuff girls pointing at them, and even some of the guys were crowded together, whispering and pointing. Gregory approached Draco, giving him a soft grin of understanding and squeezing his shoulder. He noticed Potter glaring at him, and turned to give him a death glare before turning back to Greg. 

 

“Mcgonagall was asking about you. Told her I hadn’t seen you. I’d check with her mate, and I’ll see you in potions.” Greg turned and ran off to catch up with the other slytherins, Theodore and Millicent walking amidst the crowd of Hufflepuffs. Draco smiled to himself. He was glad Greg came back for his last year. Draco didn’t know what he would do without the big burly man. He seemed harsh and scary, but he was really a sweet man, despite being a little slow. He glanced at Potter out of the corner of his eye, and smirked at his confounded look.

 

“What?”

 

“I’ve never heard him talk before. It’s strange, s’all.”

 

Draco snorted, shaking his head and beginning to walk into the transfiguration class. Mcgonagall glanced up at them as they entered, and he could see her visibly relax, her shoulders drooping slightly as she sighed in relief. 

 

“Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy.” She walked to them, greeting them curtly. “I was concerned after the display at breakfast, but I’m glad to see you are both alright. Don’t worry, the caster of the hex has been punished appropriately.” She nodded at them, before continuing. “Have you two noticed any effects of the binding?”

 

The two of them momentarily glanced at each other, and Draco cautiously nodded. Potter answered, saying, “Well, when Malfoy was hexed, I could feel it, I guess? I could feel the stinging hexes and felt the slug effects of the jinx.” Mcgonagall looked interested, and Draco noted her quill was writing down what they said as they spoke. 

 

“That is quite interesting. I’ll alert Madam Pomphrey, she had guessed that side effects like that might occur. I don’t want to keep you from your next class, hurry along to Potions now.” She waved her hand to the door in dismissal, and the two turned and ran down the empty corridors down to the dungeons. Their footsteps echoed in the empty dungeon halls, and they burst into the class, panting from the exertion of running. 

 

Both the Gryffindors and Slytherins turned to look at them, staring blankly at the two boys. Granger and the Weasel were waving at Potter, and he smiled at them, nodding his head, He pulled Draco over to sit at the table next to them, and he caught eye contact with Greg, who gave him a solemn nod of acknowledgement. Draco put on his sneer as he was pulled to the Gryffindor tables, sitting down at the front of the room next to the Weasel and Granger. 

 

“Hey mate,” the weasel started up, grinning at him and smacking Potter’s shoulder. Granger looked at Weasley, tilting her head towards Draco and glaring when Weasley attempted to protest silently. Draco watched their silent conversation with mock interest, as Granger won their silent debate. Weasley let out an audible sigh, turning to Draco and staring at him with a scowl on his face.

 

“Yes, Weasel?” He sneered at the redhead, attempting to look uninterested despite his curiosity. Weasley turned to Granger, giving her a desperate glance before looking back at him. 

 

“I’msorryIinsultedyou,” Weasley muttered under his breath, his face red with embarassment. Draco wasn’t having any of it, and propped his head on his hand, smirking deviously.

 

“Pardon? I didn’t catch that, Weasley, speak up.” 

 

“I’m sorry I insulted you,” Weasley snapped with a dirty look, turning back to Potter after he apologized and shook his head at the black haired man. “How do you put up with that, mate, I’d have been driven mad by now.”

 

Potter just shrugged, and turned his attention to the door as Slughorn came barrelling through, stumbling through the doorframe and looking very concerned as his eyes landed on the two joined boys. He bustled towards them, nearly tripping over himself as he approached them, leaning over the table. 

 

“Harry, m’boy, how are you holding up so far?” He asked, pointedly ignoring Draco, not even sparing him a glance. Potter noticed it too, glancing around awkwardly as though he didn’t want the attention. 

 

“Good, Professor Slughorn, me and Draco,” Potter made a point of pulling Draco in, bringing attention to him and diverting it off of himself, “Have been doing alright so far.” Slughorn spared a glance to Draco, giving him a nod of acknowledgement. 

 

“Good, good. I’ve been doing some research on the origin of the potion, Poppy asked me to see if I could get any information, find some antidote of some sort.” Slughorn glanced around awkwardly, attempting to not make eye contact as he said, “Unfortunately, I do believe it might be a bad idea for you two to take the official antidote. As the potion is made for inorganic material, I’m afraid that if you were to take it, the potion would alter and harm your vitals, and even cause issue to your magic.” Potter looked crestfallen, but Draco knew it would be a miracle if they actually managed to make a safe antidote. If Snape had been there, maybe, but Slughorn was such a bloody knob he couldn’t even make an antidote to save his own life. 

 

“Thank you for trying, Professor,” Draco said, giving the older man a strained smile that he feared looked closer to a grimace. The other man nodded, standing up straight and moving to the front of the room, beginning the lesson. 

 

“You looked rather pained there,” Potter murmured to him, grinning sheepishly at the blonde. 

 

“Surely after dealing with Slughorn for so long, you’d be too,” Draco muttered back, attempting to keep his face blank but ultimately failing, returning Potter’s grin with a lighthearted smirk. 

 

“Fair enough.” Silence rang out for a moment, Slughorn’s pompous voice sputtering loudly about potion ingredients, plants and their different varieties and what they did for potions. For eighth years, it was an extremely dull lesson, but after the disaster of yesterday, it was understandable. 

 

“I Don’t know why he always seems to favour me, for merlin’s sake.” Potter blurted out under his breath, shaking his head in frustration. 

 

“Well, you’re the chosen one, Potter, why wouldn’t favour you?” Draco sneered back, but it lacked venom, as he was more curious about why Potter had decided to tell him this. He received a glare, and chuckled softly.

 

“But there are so many better students in here! I’m absolutely pants at potions, there are so many better students he could favour! Hermione is brilliant at potions, You’re fantastic at potions, and he seems to want to give me all the credit when you do everything!” Potter continued to complain to him, but he was complimenting Draco, legitimately complimenting him, and the Slytherin glanced away, his face lighting up softly. His cheeks had flushed out slightly, and as much as he tried to keep a straight face, his lips curled up slightly at the praise. 

 

It wasn’t often that Draco was legitimately praised for his work, and it felt nice. His parents were rather cold to him, even before the Dark Lord had taken over their house, and he tended to take attention where he could get it, even if it was just Potter complimenting his potions knowledge. 

 

“Oi, mate, if you kiss his arse anymore you’ll have a ferret worshipping your shoes too,” He heard the Weasel mutter to Potter, and Draco bristled, sneering back at the two other Gryffindors with an uncaring glance. 

 

“And you’d know, Weasel,” He sneered, rolling his eyes and turning back, pulling out his favourite quill from big bag and a small notebook. He took control of their joined arm, grasping the shimmering quill in his fingers and beginning to draw. 

 

Draco never used to draw when his father was around, as his father believed it to be worthless and time wasting. He enjoyed it, the idea of making something beautiful out of nothing always appealed to him. He let his arm do as it wished, scratching lines without really thinking of what he was making. He found letting his hand do as it wanted was the most relaxing, and slowly, the pointed, sharp face of a merperson came into being. Great gills rising from their neck, hair floating around its face. When he was stressed, he used to sit in the Slytherin common room, staring up at the glass panes that seperated the dungeons from the bottom of the lake. He could often see the merpeople floating through the water, and he used to have makeshift conversations with them through signing as best he could to them. He missed the Slytherin quarters, but he couldn’t go back in there while he was attached to Potter. 

 

He scratched the final line into the parchment, giving it narrow, glowering eyes, chiseled cheekbones and a sharp set of teeth. He leaned back, looking over it, when he felt eyes over his shoulder, and saw Potter in his peripheral vision, leaning over and looking at his sketch. His eyes were wide in a look of wonder, and he could tell that he had zoned out the Weasel, the other man talking about some mundane thing that nobody was really listening to. Potter interrupted Weasley, cutting him off and referring to Draco when he asked, 

 

“You can draw?”

 

Draco glanced away, nodding curtly and suddenly paying rather close attention to the messy scrawl up on the blackboard belonging to Slughorn.

 

“Wow, Draco, that’s really good!” He heard Granger say, using his given name. That shocked him enough into turning around, and he saw Granger’s face, a soft smile gracing her features as she gestured to his quick scribble. He gathered himself after gaping at the two Gryffindors, turning up his nose and replying with,

 

“Well of course it is, I did it after all.” He attempted to sound smug, but his lips were trying their hardest to turn up, and a light pink blush graced his cheeks. Potter chuckled at him, and even Granger gave him a knowing grin. Their moment of civility was broken by Weasley, who leaned forward, bursting into their space and snapping in an annoyed tone. 

 

“Oi! Is anybody even listening to me anymore?”

 

“Oh yes, Weasley, we were all absolutely enthralled with your tale of heroism and triumph. Please, continue.” Draco replied with a smirk, and Granger gave him a side glance, but wore a smile as she squeezed Weasley’s arm to soothe him. Draco pretended to stop listening, zoning out and turning his head away despite listening to their every word.

 

“What were you saying, Ron?” 

 

“I was saying, I was thinking of joining the aurors when I get out.”

 

Granger gasped, squeezing his arm with a look of excitement on her face.

 

“Ronald, really?!” When he nodded, she squealed, her hair bouncing wildly as she smiled at him. 

 

“I’m so proud of you, Ron!” She paused, and he glanced out of the corner of his eye, noting her turn to Potter. “What about you, Harry? Are you going to join him?”

 

“Er…” Potter stammered, carding his fingers through his hair nervously and glancing around. He looked like he was attempting to run away, finding a way to avoid answering. Draco decided he would do Potter a favour, and turned around, rolling his eyes and scoffing at their conversation. 

 

“In order to become an Auror you’d need to have brains, which is something Potter unfortunately lacks. A nice idea though, Granger,” He added, turning back to the front and grinning to himself at the outraged sounds from the two behind him. Potter, however, looked relieved, and touched his hand to Draco’s briefly to show his silent thanks. Draco nodded briefly, and blocked the Gryffindors out for the rest of the period, listening to Slughorn babble on about things Snape had covered in Third year. 

 

The class ended soon after, and with the end of it Slughorn assigned a couple of feet of an essay about properties of certain plants in specific potions. Draco sighed, slipping his books and quill into his bag, standing with Potter at his side. 

 

“What next?” Potter questioned, cocking his head as the two left the potions class. Granger and Weasley were next to them, and they were all listing off their individual classes. 

 

“I have Arithmancy next,” Granger offered, and Draco nodded. Of course she would take Arithmancy, what wasn’t she taking? 

 

“I have Muggle studies,” Weasley shrugged, slinging his bag over his shoulder. 

 

“I don’t have anything,” Potter replied, glancing to Draco. “So I go to your class, I presume?” Draco nodded, and jerked his head out the window. 

 

“Herbology.” Potter nodded, and the small group reached a fork, one staircase leading down to the Grand hall and the other leading up towards the towers. 

 

“Bye Ron, Hermione! See you guys in Defence!” Potter called out, waving at them with their joined arm and pulling a scowl from Draco. 

 

“Why do you insist on using our arm for unnecessary things?” 

 

Potter shrugged, his face looking oddly bright. 

 

“Thank you for saving me back there, by the way.” Potter said, his face looking pleasantly gentle as he gave a nod to the potions class behind them. 

 

“It was rather obvious you weren’t interested in what they were asking,” Draco replied dryly, “It’s odd they wouldn’t notice your discomfort when I could.” 

 

Potter shrugged, glancing away as they made their way by the grand hall and out the great doors into the castle yard. “They tend to project what they want, sometimes they ignore what I want.”

 

“And what do you want?” 

 

“I want to... “ Potter sighed, shrugging and kicking at a small pebble on the grass as they passed by Hagrid’s hut, the greenhouses in sight. “I was thinking I might possibly want to be the Defence teacher.”

 

“You want to be a teacher?” Potter nodded, and his eyes lit up, his smile wide. 

 

“I rather like teaching, I did it once for the DA.” His grin soured momentarily, and he muttered, “Not that you’d know about that.” 

 

Draco sighed, rolling his head as they reached the greenhouses, entering greenhouse 3 and standing patiently while waiting for Professor Sprout. He felt the eyes of other students on them, but ignored as he replied, “Potter, past was staying in the past, last time i checked.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

Their conversation was cut off by the entrance of Professor Sprout. She was obviously informed of their predicament, as she didnt comment on Potter’s sudden appearance in her class and instead announcing, “

 

Alright class! Now, if you’d all please hand in your essay lists to the front, and we can begin!”

 

Draco sent the essay to the front with a quick flick of his wand, and it landed on the pile, albeit rather sloppily. Class began, and the two boys worked together efficiently, not much time to talk as they worked with the plants in the senior greenhouses. If they didn’t listen, they could have very well been injured, so the two of them listened very closely and didn’t talk for the rest of the class.

 

The class ended faster than they both expected, and they turned to each other at the end of class, packing up their books. 

 

“Well done Potter, I expected you to be absolutely pants at Herbology.”

 

Potter grinned at the offhanded compliment, and shrugged. 

 

“When you have nothing to read but old textbooks, you become very versed in what not to eat.” 

 

Draco snorted, and the two men walked back up towards the school in comfortable silence. Once they reached the doors, they realized it was Lunch already, and glanced at each other uncertainly. 

 

“Kitchens?” Potter offered, and Draco was relieved, glad to accept, and the two went down to the dungeons in silence, Draco reaching out and sliding a finger along the portrait of the pear to open the entrance to the kitchens. The elves swarmed around them, and began serving them food, platters of sandwiches and pasties and little snacks. They took the food graciously, sitting at the table and diving in. Draco glanced over, and noticed Potter eating, hunching slightly over his plate and grabbing great handfuls of the food on his plate to shove into his mouth. He noted that Potter held an arm over in front of his plate, and Draco shook his head at the disgusting manners. He, however, possessed some couth, and decided to not mention it, taking small bites of the food. 

 

They finished at about the same time, and stood, Potter graciously thanking the elves for their service. They left for charms, and Draco couldn’t hold his curiosity at Potter’s mannerisms any longer, asking,

 

“Why do you bother thanking the elves?”

 

Potter turned, a dirty glint in his eye. He replied with scorn, “They deserve thanks for all they do just as much as we do, Malfoy.” 

 

“They’d happily do it even if you beat them,” Draco argued, but once he saw the furious look in his eye, he quickly remedied, “Not that I ever did. My father did, but I knew that it wasn’t right.”

 

“The difference, Malfoy, is that while they might do what you ask, they do it out of fear instead of out of a respect for you. Kreacher respects me, that’s why he does what I ask, not because I inherited him.”

 

Draco nodded. That… actually made sense to him. Not that he’d tell Potter such, so instead he just nodded, tilting his head and walking forward to charms in silence. They reached the class in record time, and sat at a table in the back of the class. Flitwick was already at the front of the class, and he greeted them with a nod and a pitiful smile as they took their seat. 

 

“Welcome, gentlemen. It’s nice to see your, Mr Potter.”

 

Potter nodded at Flitwick, and class began moments later. The short man stood upright on his pedestal, announcing, 

 

“Alright, Eighth years! We will be continuing on advanced protection charms today. Continue with what you were doing! Remember, happiest memories work best!” Flitwick stopped, considering, before gesturing to the two boys. “Mr Potter, you’re probably the best example of a student who can conjure a Patronus, would you be kind enough to show an example?”

 

Draco sighed, and saw Potter out of the corner of his eye. The other boy looked bashful, and nodded, but he didn’t look very pleased about it. He stood, brandishing their joined arm, with his wand, and closed his eyes for a moment. He opened his eyes, waving and muttering, 

 

“Expecto Patronum!” 

 

The great stag bursted from the tip, making a lap around the class before disappearing. The class stared at them, awestruck. 

 

“Showoff,” Draco muttered, shaking his head. Draco then spent the entire class listening to Potter give advice to the other classmates, getting more and more annoyed as the black haired man turned to him. 

 

“Aren’t you going to try?” Draco grimaced, glancing away out the window. 

 

“I don’t have a happy memory,” He snarled quietly, just as the bell rang. Potter just stared at him, dumbfounded, and Draco scowled, standing and shoving his books into his bag. 

 

“Let’s just go to Defence, alright, Potter? Don’t concern yourself with my bloody business.” 

 

He went storming from the room, yanking Potter along behind them from his arm. “Ow, Malfoy, quit it!” Potter yelped, the strain on their conjoined arm pulling painfully. Potter caught up with him, and the two men walked side by side, glaring at each other out of the corner of their eyes. Draco was feeling ridiculously frustrated. Why did Potter have to get up in his business all the time? Couldn’t the nosey bastard mind himself? Draco shook his head, glaring at the group of Ravenclaw third years that sat huddled in a corner, staring at them with wide eyes and whispering behind their hands. Fortunately, they were almost at the Dark Arts classroom, and Potter just radiated excitement. The prat happened to love Defence, and despite the non professional teacher, he still excelled in the class. 

 

They entered the class, Potter giving a wave to the Defence teacher, a man who went by the name of Robards. He was a tall, thickly built man, arms nearly as strong as his magic. An auror who had retired after the war, sliding into teaching instead. And, of course, He seemed to favour Potter, inflating the Golden Boy’s ego with endless praise, and gave many dirty looks in Draco’s direction, barely acknowledging him when he surpassed Potter. Draco despised the class, especially since he was now forced to be partners with Potter. Draco groaned inwards at the thought, and sat his arse down forcefully on the nearest stool, tossing his rucksack to the ground and huffing softly. Potter shot him a glance, but didn’t say anything, choosing to sit down next to him and smiling up when Robards walked over.

 

The man was tall, overshadowing Draco and making feel small. He hated feeling small, small meant weak and if there was one thing that he refused to be, it was Weak. At least, he refused to show himself being weak, instead putting on a blank mask. He glanced up at Robards, his face resting in a scowl. The other man pointedly ignored him, choosing to stare right at Potter with a cool expression.

 

“Harry, I heard what happened. how are you holding up?”

 

Potter shrugged, giving him a sheepish grin. “I’ve been better,” He admitted, and Draco huffed, giving a glare out in his direction and puffing out his chest. The other two men ignored him, Potter turning and waving as the Gryffindor’s friends came through the door. They sat at the table next to him, and Draco felt himself once again being surrounded by Gryffindors. He kept his sneer on, despite feeling ridiculously uncomfortable. Fortunately, Robards felt it appropriate to begin the class, and all the attention was drawn to the front of the class, where he cleared his throat and grinned. 

 

“Hello everybody,” He began, gesturing with open arms to the class, smiling to the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws warmly, sparing a half a second’s glance to Draco before getting back to the class. “Today, I think it’s a good day to start on wandless magic.” The class gasped, and Draco rolled his eyes. Who couldn’t do a little wandless magic? Robards seemed to sense his feelings, and he continued, “I know you all think that everyone can do a little wandless magic, but I’m not talking about a simple levitating charm, I’m referring to this,” He exaggerated his point by casting a wandless protego, the spell strong enough to shimmer strongly in the air. Draco was slightly impressed, but Potter seemed uncaring, twirling his quill in his fingers. 

 

“Wandless spells take a lot of magical energy. Your wand is an appendage to focus the magical energy you possess, and to perform a wandless spell is to focus it in an entirely different way, and it is one of the most difficult kinds of magic one can do.” He smiled at the class before ordering, “Partner up and begin with simple spells, a levitating spell or an Accio. Check with me before performing more powerful spells. You can begin!”

 

Potter turned to him, looking thoroughly bored. He tossed his quill to the table, and lifting their shared arm, levitated it into the air. Robards came over, nodding with a cool grin on his face. 

 

“Good, Harry. Now can you Accio something?” He challenged, and Potter grinned at the challenge, gesturing to Longbottom across the room. He wandlessly muttered an Accio, and the quill that Longbottom was holding zoomed across the room, landing in their hand. Robards nodded, again seeming to ignore Draco as he turned, chastising Weasley for being unable to lift a quill. 

 

“Impressive, Potter. What else can you do?” Draco attempted to sneer, but he was rather curious. As Potter was casting the charms through their arm, he could feel the tingle of magic that was not his own, the power that Potter was hiding. He had never noticed his own magic to work that way, he had never felt it, but he could feel Potter’s when he cast, and he was legitimately intrigued. Potter shrugged in reply, turning to Draco with a smirk on his face. 

 

“Depends? What do you have in mind?” Draco hummed, deep in thought. 

 

“A Patronus.” Draco challenged, smirking. He doubted even Potter could make a wandless Patronus, and he’d love to mock him for it when he fails. Potter shrugged, grinning, brandishing their arm. Potter closed his eyes, looking as though he were thinking. He sat up, gesturing his arm, and saying, determination in his eyes, 

 

“Expecto Patronum!”

 

It took a moment, but Draco gasped, his other hand jumping to their joined arm as the feeling of magic exploded throughout their joined limb, travelling up his arm and shocking him as the shimmering silver stag exploded from the palm of Potter’s hand. The rest of the class gasped, staring in awe as the magical animal pranced around the room, Potter’s smirk growing into a full fledged grin, his eyes shining as he watched the animal making its rounds before flickering out and fading from existence. Draco sat, wide eyed, staring at the spot where the form had disappeared. He felt eyes on him, and looked around, to find that he was indeed right, the entire class was staring at them with wide eyes; their jaws dropped to the floor. Even Granger and Weasley were staring at them, Weasel with wide eyes, Granger with a disdainful look.

 

“Think that’s showing off a bit, mate?” The redhead muttered, and Granger agreed silently, giving them glowering looks. She was probably just pissed because Potter excelled at her in something. He smirked to himself, his mind still reeling from the feeling of experiencing someone else’s magic firsthand.

 

“Malfoy dared me,” Potter explained, suddenly appearing sheepish as the class continued to stare at them. 

 

“And if Malfoy jumped off a bridge, would you jump off after him?” Granger said, her tone rather condescending and beginning to annoy Draco.

 

“Well, Hermione, at this point I wouldn’t have a choice, would I?” He snapped, starting to get annoyed from the combination of the classes staring and his friend’s disapproval.

 

“No, I suppose not,” She replied, her turn to sound sheepish, turning back to Weasley and whispering to him.

 

“That makes the idea of jumping from a bridge sound much more appealing,” Draco drawled, trying to regain himself and pull his mask back together. Potter shot him a dirty look, annoyance written across his face. 

 

“Sod off, Malfoy,” was the reply, and Draco rolled his eyes, resigning himself to looking around the room and watching the other students attempt their own wandless magic. Longbottom was partnered with the Brown girl, the one who Greyback attacked last year. He was pointing his finger at a feather, attempting to use it as a wand and levitate it. Draco rolled his eyes. The way he attempted it was all wrong, and he was tempted to say such. He was distracted by the sight of Greg and Theo, the two sitting back in the corner and attempting their own magic. Greg waved his hand at the quill, and it shook for a moment, before the inkwell exploded, the entire white feather bleeding black and staining the desk. Draco snorted, turning away with a smirk on his face just in time to see Robards approach.

 

“Harry, Draco.” He greeted, stating Draco’s name blankly with no emotion as though he’d rather not even acknowledge the boy. “I’ve been informed of your predicament.”

 

“Well, I figured an auror like you would have been able to figure it out without being informed,” Draco sniped, lifting their conjoined arm to demonstrate how obvious the issue was. Potter snorted, and Robards gave him a disapproving glance, before continuing with his thought.

 

“As I said, I’ve been informed, as this is your last class before dinner, I’m supposed to let you leave early, as given the events of this morning.” Draco paled, beginning to pack his books into his bag in silence. Potter nodded, and slung his bag over his shoulder, turning to the two other Gryffindors and murmuring to the other two eighth years quietly. Draco couldn’t hear what they were saying, and within a moment, the two were ready, and stood, walking to the door awkwardly, attempting to not attract attention. Unfortunately, they failed, and the entire class turned to stare at them, and Draco felt a particularly strong stinging hex pelt his back, and he hissed in pain, noticing Potter jump and whip around, yanking Draco with him. He saw Thomas and Finnigan snickering to each other, wands out. He saw Potter glaring daggers, clenching his wand in his hand. 

 

“Potter, come on,” Draco murmured to him, turning back and giving a gentle pull on his arm. Potter stood for a moment, before whipping around, pulling Draco forcefully from the room. “Potter, calm down,” He pleaded, wincing in pain as the other man stormed down the changing stairwells. He could feel the anger emanating from the other man, and Draco shrunk down away from him, wincing from the feeling of the rage that poured from the other man. 

 

Potter stormed their way down to the dungeons, getting angrier and angrier as he went. Draco was getting scared, as much as he hated the feeling, he knew Potter was powerful and he didn’t want that power getting turned around onto him. They finally stopped outside of the dungeons, where Potter leaned against the wall for a moment before whipping around and stepping to Draco. 

 

“Why do you just let them do that to you?” Potter snapped, staring him in the eyes. Draco was startled at the pureness of the green, emerald staring into his silver eyes. It startled him, but he recomposed himself, snapping back, 

 

“Well, Potty, what would you suggest I do?”

 

“Fight back! Hex them back, tell somebody! Kick their bloody arses, don’t just stand there and take it!”

 

Draco laughed, he couldn’t help it. How fucking stupid could Potter be? “Oh yeah, Potter. Let me just hex them back, and get sent to Azkaban! That’s exactly what I want.”

 

“Don’t use unforgivables and maybe you won’t be arrested then, Malfoy.” His voice was cold, and Draco was starting to get pissed off. 

 

“Everything is just so simple to you, Potter, isn’t it?” He laughed in his face. “Life isn’t black and white, you know. Do you think I want to just fucking get hexed, day in and day out? Have you even seen the way people look at me?” He was starting to get angry himself, standing up straighter and hovering over Potter, who was shrinking down with realization. “Did you see the way everyone, even the teachers, look at me? They don’t even acknowledge me, didn’t even stop them. Nobody cares about some ex death eater prick.” Draco took a deep breath, closing his eyes and using his occlumency skills to tuck his anger, his frustration, into a box, guarding it and pulling his mask back on.

 

“Potter, you might not have realized this, but if you hadn’t been at my trial, I would be rotting in Azkaban right now, no doubt about it. The only reason that they listened to you at all was you’re the ministry poster boy, and even then, they wanted to put me in Azkaban. If I step one toe out of line, I’ll get the kiss. And nobody’s going to be there to bail me out this time.”

 

With that, he turned back, avoiding the shocked and sympathetic look on Potter’s face and running his finger along the painted pear, allowing them access to the kitchens. They ate in silence, the elves swarming around them eager to serve. They sat down in silence and began their meal.

 

\- - - - - - - - -

 

They got back to their room in silence, avoiding crowded hallways to get back to their room. They opened the door, and went to the couch, Draco tossing his bowl over onto the couch and sighing. He sat and leaned back onto the couch, closing his eyes and laying a hand over his face. He let out a great sigh, zoning out and beginning to nod off. He felt Potter adjusting next to him, and he was trying to get his attention, but Draco wasn’t in the mood, shaking his head and grunting exhaustedly. 

 

“Malfoy,” He heard, and he cracked an eye, peering through his hair at the boy beside him.

 

“What do you want, Potter?”

 

“Theres an owl at the window.”

 

Draco sighed, sitting up and the both of them made their way over to the window, throwing the window open and letting the bird in. It flew over to a desk, and Draco walked over, recognizing the owl with a wide grin. It was regal, white fading slowly into grey with a piercing gaze in its eyes. It was Pansy’s owl, and it recognized him immediately, holding its leg out for him to take the letter. Draco unwrapped the letter from the bird’s small leg, taking a small treat from the desk and feeding it to the bird. It didn’t fly immediately away, however, and Draco sighed, knowing she was expecting a reply.

 

“You’ll be here for a while if you’re waiting for a reply, so buckle in,” He told the bird, giving it a scritch under the chin and walking back to the couch. He threw himself down, Potter sitting next to him and obviously attempting to mind his own business as Draco pulled open the letter, stretching it open and scanning the letter.

 

Dear Draco,

 

You poor soul! Millicent informed me of what happened yesterday. I’m so sorry I hadn’t come back to Hogwarts, I can’t believe I missed the opportunity to witness you attached to Potter at the arm. Which arm is it? Unfortunately, Millicent can be rather plain, please tell me All of the details. How’ve you been faring, attached to the man who you’ve been obsessed over for eight whole years? I can imagine how stressful it’s been for you, Poor Draky!

 

Draco cringed, his face flushing at the mention of his obsession. Salazar, the bint made it sound like he was in love with the prat, he was just bloody annoying and he fully intended to tell her so. He would have to tell her a thing or two about using that bloody fucking nickname. He shook his head, and continued reading.

 

How have you been doing? Since I began at Beaubaxtons I haven’t had the time to write you much; for which I apologize. Really, this Winter, we must get together sometime and talk. I have missed you, Draco, despite how our friendship’s been rather rocky. You’d never believe who’s gone to Durmstrang! Blaise! I couldn’t believe my ears when I heard, but Theodore apparently still talks to him, and he told me so. As well, I figured I might as well tell you; your Mother sent me yet another owl, trying to convince me to sign a marriage contract. Should you inform her of our differing attraction types, or shall I? Please reply to me soon, It takes a while for owls to get from there to France, and I’d quite like to hear about how it’s going soon.

 

Love, Pansy

 

Draco smiled softly to himself, reading through the letter again. While His and Pansy’s friendship was originally purely tactical, they had grown close through the suffering of the last few years. Her mother had insisted that she go to Beaubaxtons instead of returning to Hogwarts, and Draco reflected that she had been smart, seeing what he was dealing with here. He thought of a long reply, and turned to Potter, asking, 

 

“Potter, how long until we need to go to Astronomy?” 

 

“About a half an hour, until it gets dark. Why?”

 

“I need to reply to Pansy.”

 

“Parkinson?” Potter scrunched his nose in disgust at the mention of her name. “Was it her letter? What does she want with you?”

 

Draco rolled his eyes, pulling a spare roll of parchment and his favourite quill from his bag. “Mind if I use control of the arm, Potter? I’m rubbish at writing with my right.”

 

Potter nodded, and Draco took the quill in his arm, beginning his letter.

 

Dear Pansy,

 

It has been ten years, and, despite multiple death threats, you continue to assault me with that vile nickname.

 

“What nickname?” Potter cut in during his writing, leaning over and obviously reading over his shoulder, much to Draco’s disgust. Draco took the other letter, giving a quick scribble over certain sentences and handing the remainder to Potter. He saw Potter’s eyes skimming over, and he burst out in laughter once he reached the nickname. “Drakey?” He choked out, his eyes watering from laughter. “Can I call you that?”

 

“Potter, if you ever mention that outside of this room, I will break every bone in your body and hang you upside down by your toes in the forbidden forest.” But he couldn’t help the grin that was spreading across his face, and Potter grinned, leaning and whispering into his ear, 

 

“Drakey poo,” And Draco lost it, holding his head in his hands to attempt to stifle his laughter, punching him in the leg as he laughed. He shook his head, continuing to write his letter with a grin on his face.

 

As for Potter, I wish you would stop writing as though I had a juvenile crush on him. He just happens to be an ignorant prat, albeit with a decent sense of humour. It’s been quite horrible the last two days. You wouldn’t believe what happened even just today. A Slug burping curse, Pansy! In the great hall! It was absolutely bloody embarrassing, you don’t even understand, Pans. I’m starting to believe you were the smart one, and if I weren’t attached at the flesh to Potter’s arm I may very well be on my way to Beaubaxtons to join you. I haven’t been doing so well, I’ve been dreadfully concerned about everything, even being in the halls is torture. I’m trying to study best I can and get all O’s, possibly to attain my goal. The worst part of this entire ordeal, however, is the Weasel. He’s been harassing me for this entire time, even Granger isn’t as bad as him. He’s a right bastard, I don’t know how anybody could stand him. To answer your questions, It’s my left. I can’t even wear a sleeve, I had to beg fucking Potter to cast a glamour just to cover it. And as for my mother, I think we should both just leave it, when she walks in on me with my prick buried in another man’s arse then maybe she’ll stop harassing me for it. It was nice to hear from you, Pansy, I’ll write you next time something worthwhile happens. And as for your plans for Winter break, unlikely as my arm will be forcefully linked to Potter. And it may be so until the end of the year, so don’t count on any meetups. 

 

With love, Draco

 

He rolled it up, tying a thin ribbon around the bulk of the letter and called the owl over, tying it around her thin leg and sending her on her way with a head scratch and a ‘Nip Pansy for me!’ As the bird flew from the window. Potter rolled his eyes, standing with Draco and slinging his bag over for his shoulder. 

 

“Ready for Astronomy, Malfoy?”

 

\- - - - - - -

 

Within a week, him and Potter had silently agreed on a truce. He would attempt to keep his tongue under check, and if he would, Potter would. They didn’t talk a whole lot, ignoring each other more often than not to keep their truce, and when they did, it felt slightly strained. But, Potter being himself, he couldn’t hold his bloody tongue, and within the week, he had touched once again on a sensitive subject. 

 

“Malfoy,” He began, getting Draco’s attention. Draco put his book down, turning his head slightly and giving Potter an annoyed stare. 

 

“What is it, Potter?” He sighed, and instead of looking annoyed, he grinned at Draco, eyes shining.

 

“I was thinking, you still haven’t told me what your patronus was,” He said, and Draco stiffened, turning and giving him a dark glare. 

 

“Is there a point to this, or do you just enjoy rubbing it in that I can’t produce one?” He snapped, admitting in a flare of anger that he had never successfully cast a patronus. He realized what he had done, and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes and preparing for Potter to laugh at him. Potter was essentially the king of patronuses, why wouldn’t he laugh? An Eighth year who couldn’t even produce a patronus was essentially the laughingstock of the class. Instead of laughing, however, Potter smiled at him, sitting up next to him excitedly. 

 

“I can help you with that, you know,” Potter said to him, and Draco opened his eyes, turning and staring at him blankly. Potter wanted to help him? He stared at Potter, raising his eyebrow until Potter glanced away sheepishly, carding his fingers through his hair. “If you want me to, that is.”

 

“You want to teach me to produce a patronus?” Potter nodded, giving him a nervous smile that made Draco want to smile back. “What’s in it for you? Why would you want to do it?” He asked suspiciously, nervousness threatening to break through. Why would he want to do something for Draco, especially if he got nothing out of it? When Potter heard his question, however, he just gave him a sheepish grin, shrugging. 

 

“Do I need to get something out of it?” he said simply, and Draco stared at him, surprise written across his features. 

 

“Why’d you want to do it then?” 

 

Potter looked away, considering. 

 

“I just… Enjoy teaching, I suppose. When I used to teach the DA, I used to enjoy teaching, and I could teach anybody anything.” 

 

“So I wouldn’t be bloody terrible to teach?” He asked, raising his eyebrows with a smirk. Potter grinned, shaking his head. Draco watched Potter’s unruly mop of hair fly about as he spoke, 

 

“If I could teach Zacharias Smith how to cast a patronus, you’ll be easy.” 

 

Draco smirked, and nodded, causing Potter to sit up excitedly, smile wide. 

 

“So we can do it?”

 

His smile was contagious, and Draco found himself grinning despite himself. “Yes, Potter, you can teach me your magical ways.” 

 

\- -

 

“First, you need a happy memory,” Potter said, and Draco had to admire how his voice went from soft to authoritative when he was teaching. The way he spoke was strong, and it echoed in the empty classroom they had cooped up in.

 

Draco rolled his eyes, twirling his wand between his fingers. “I know the basics, Potter, I’m not in third year. I just…” He paused, and shrugged. “I haven’t been able to get it right in practice.” 

 

Potter nodded, and continued. “Once you have your memory, you have to submerge yourself in it. Fill yourself with the happiness you felt. Let it consume you,” He said, and Draco nodded, closing his eyes. Memories filled his mind, and he settled on a memory from when he was young. Christmas at the Manor, the snow falling past the windows. His Father sat next to him as he unwrapped his first broomstick, his eyes widening in delight as his Mother watched on with a gentle smile. 

 

He opened his eyes, turning to Potter and nodding. “Alright.” 

 

“Take your wand in your wand arm, and gesture like,” Potter waves his wand in a specific flicklike motion, “This.” He looked to Draco expectantly, a patient smile on his features. Draco sighed, his wand held awkwardly in their conjoined arm. He held it with grace, and he took a step forward, trying to think about his memory as he flicked his wand. 

 

“Expecto Patronum!” 

 

He stared blankly at the tip of his wand as nothing happened, feeble magic fliitting down his arm yet failing to do anything. He sighed, clenching his fist and closing his eyes in frustration. Potter was silent for a moment, before speaking softly. 

 

“Well? Try again,” He said as though it was obvious, raising his eyebrows at Draco and watching him as he steadied himself, preparing to cast again. He shot a glare at Potter, and his memory faded away in his annoyance as he snapped,

 

“Expecto Patronum.” 

 

Nothing happened, and Potter sighed, shaking his head. 

 

“Stop being a petty prat, Malfoy. It takes patience and focus, neither of which will come from you getting your knickers in a knot.”

 

“Oh shut up, will you?” He said, pivoting to face away from Potter and closing his eyes. Another memory slid into his mind, of him hiding in a shed on the Manor property, nurturing a litter of kneazles. Their mother had abandoned them, and he spent weeks sneaking out in the dead of the night to feed them and keep them warm. He smiled at the memory of the warm kittens, wrapped in his old scarf and mewling at him for milk. Opening his eyes, he brandished his wand and in a burst of confidence, shouted out, 

 

“Expecto Patronum!”

 

He gasped as a burst of white flew from his wand, and he stared excitedly for a moment, waiting for it to take shape, before realizing with a sigh that it wasn’t going to. The wispy, non-corporeal patronus stayed for a moment, before fading into nothingness. He clenched his fist around his wand, and glared down at the ground for a moment before Potter spoke up. 

 

“That was great!” He said with such enthusiasm that Draco's head snapped up to look at him. Potter had a dopey smile on his face, his eyes glinting behind his glasses. 

 

“I don’t need your sarcasm, Potter,” He spit, causing a look of confusion and annoyance to appear instead. 

 

“I was being serious, Malfoy, not that you could tell with your head so far up your own arse. Nobody can just automatically make a corporeal patronus, and the fact that you could make anything is better than some adults have ever done in their entire lifetime.” 

 

Draco paused for a moment, his face heating up in embarassment. He cast his gaze to the ground, slipping his wand back into his sleeve and muttering, 

 

“Can we go back to our room? It’s bloody freezing in here.” 

 

Potter nodded, and not a word was exchanged between the two of them for the rest of the night.

 

\- -

 

The next weeks went similarly every day, from the end of November to the middle of December. Draco woke up hours earlier than Potter, and always attempted to wake him up as well. Potter always told him to shove it and went back to sleep, making Draco sigh and levitate the prat from the bed to the bathroom. Draco would shower, style his hair and get dressed as best he could with one arm while Potter slept soundly. Then Draco would shove him awake, snark at him to get ready, and Potter would glare and get dressed extra slowly just to spite him. After the first week, Potter just began casting glamours without prompting, and Draco was immensely appreciative of the gesture, despite never voicing it. 

 

They then went to breakfast in the kitchens, refusing to go into the great hall after the disastrous first day. They went to Transfiguration every day but Wednesday, Potter moaning and groaning about Care of Magical Creatures until Draco scowled and agreed. After, it was Potions, Draco suffering through being surrounded by Gryffindors every day, enduring the dirty looks and objects hurled at the back of his head. They made their way to Herbology next, and then the both of them went to Charms, Then Defence, where he had daggers glared at him for even being near the golden boy. After defence, they went down to the kitchens for dinner. Granger and Weasley would join them at times, and as much as he disliked to admit it, Granger was starting to grow on him. She was extremely intelligent, and she was able to have rather interesting conversations with him, better than anything he’d ever said to Potter. 

 

They sat around after supper, and Draco was beginning to get more and more excited to receive Pansy’s letters. They would then go to astronomy, and Draco basically sat around, staring at the stars for the entire class, tuning out Sinatra and focus on the shimmering in the sky, and thought about what he possibly could have done to deserve this.


End file.
